


Rebirth

by Azaelea



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Jealousy, Jedi Younglings - Freeform, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Order 66, Rebellion, Redemption, Slow Burn, Unintentional force bond, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 142,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaelea/pseuds/Azaelea
Summary: A force vision sends Obi-Wan racing back to Coruscant after finally defeating General Grievous on Utapau, in time to intercept Anakin as he marches on the jedi temple - and change their future forever. Palpatine could plot all he liked, but the living force was stronger than them all, and it was not done with the Chosen One and his Self-Sacrificing Jedi Master. Losing their whole world can sometimes put the most important parts of life back into perspective, and family is not only bound by blood.AU from Anakin’s acceptance of Palpatine’s offer after Mace Windu's death and the execution of Order 66.Here lies: angst, suffering, feelings, character growth, action, and adventure with a dash of romance. Padme/Anakin is mostly in the past, as this keeps her death canon. Anakin/Obi-Wan is later and slow burn, but it'll turn up.
Relationships: Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 147
Kudos: 324





	1. Skyfall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first foray into the Star-Wars Fandom. I just really got back into all the clone wars content and the comics and the movies and this idea came to me and just wouldn't leave me alone. So here it is! I have borrowed some lines from the movie (maybe 2 or 3), but it goes pretty AU from the onset of order 66 and the attack on the Jedi Temple. I just couldn't let Obi-Wan go on to suffer by himself in isolation in the desert. 
> 
> I own nothing, everything belongs to Mr. Lucas. I am merely grateful to have a little play in the wonderful world he created.

**Chapter 1: Skyfall**

**For this is the end**

**I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment**

**So overdue, I owe them**

**Swept away, I’m stolen**

**- _Skyfall, Adele_**

Having dispatched General Grievous at long last, Obi Wan Kenobi turned his varactyl back to the landing zone and urged it into its awkward but efficient stride. He was eager to meet up with the 212th and the other primary attack squadrons landing on Utapau to fully begin their campaign for the planet. Above them, high in orbit, the rest of the Republic’s attack force waited for their orders, meeting a weakened and thoroughly disorganised response from separatist’s naval forces, which were sent scrambling after the loss of their general.

Still riding the swell of victory, Obi-Wan arrived with his usual flourish, and he had meant to exchange his customary banter with Commander Cody, pleased to see the clone waiting for him, welcome in his expression. Yet, even as he was handed his precious lightsaber back, the weight comforting and familiar in his hand, Obi-Wan felt as though he had been struck as pain lanced through his head. His eyes fell closed and a pained gasp left his chest, as something _tugged_ on his force signature, and pulled him away from Utapau, transporting him somewhere else.

Somewhere that felt so familiar.

Past, future, present, Obi-Wan did not know, but it was dark, and a scared voice spoke into the eerie silence: “ _Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?”_

The child’s voice was familiar also, and as suddenly as his vision went dark, it returned, showing him a room that had large windows and many seats, a well-known view outside telling him that he was in one of the Jedi temple's towers – home. The scene changed again, and the outside of the temple came into focus, one second the serene building it always had been, a proud silhouette against the Coruscant skyline, the next, a smoking, jagged tear against a blood red sky, the harmony of a lifetime lived within its walls gone, and a cold fear settling deep in Obi-Wan’s chest instead.

Just as suddenly as he was taken away, Obi-Wan returned to Utapau and the cacophony of noise around him came rushing back, the jedi suddenly aware he was staring dumbly at his increasingly concerned captain, the lightsaber suddenly a cold weight in his hand. 

“General, is something the matter?” Cody asked again, worry creasing his brow,

“I have to go,” Obi-Wan replied instead, filled with a sudden sense of urgency.

Without a second glance back, he turned his varactly around, and made haste towards his ship. Cody’s alarmed cries faded into the distance, as an overwhelming impression of _wrong_ and _hurry_ and _Anakin_ pulled him back - pulled him back to where he should have been all along. 

* * *

With every minute that went by as the blue of hyperspace glittered around him, Obi-Wan’s headache got steadily worse. What started as an irritating niggle after the vision had faded, built into a throbbing mass of pain as he hurriedly stuffed himself into his small shuttle, and his journey back to Coruscant continued. He had attempted meditation several times, trying to draw on the force and release his pain as was his custom, but every time he tried, anxiety rose in him so swiftly he had to break out of the trance.

It was most troubling. 

All he knew is that somehow, it was linked to Anakin.

A part of him wondered about the bond they still shared. Shrivelled and ignored, as Anakin had effectively started blocking Obi-Wan the closer he got to Padmé and Palpatine, Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to break his last tie to his padawan, though he had tried, force help him, he had tried to rid himself of this attachment.

Now, each time Obi-Wan tried to centre himself and reach for the bond and examine it, it had the approximate effect of sticking a sharp metal stick into an open blaster wound. It left him grasping his head in pain, the bond pulsing and angry, alive in a way it had not been since Anakin’s youngest days.

The combined effect of the headache and the tumultuous training bond left Obi-Wan wilting in exhaustion at the controls. He was running on pure willpower, and when he finally dropped out of hyperspace, the beautiful glow of Coruscant in its all its industrial splendour in front of him, he acted almost on autopilot.

He brought the ship down through the atmosphere with practiced ease, scanning the peaks of the temple and the Force around it for any disturbance, for the smoke and stench of death he had witnessed in the force vision – searching for some clue, some reason, as to why the Force had suddenly decided to break its tradition of silence.

It had stayed silent when he had grieved, long and bitterly for the death of his own master, all those years ago. It had been silent when he struggled to release the anger and irritation he held towards a stubborn child whom he had never wanted to train in the first place. It had remained silent when he desperately tried to rid himself of the attachment that he knew he had formed to that same child, and the bright, brilliant, and handsome man whom his padawan had grown into.

Something truly catastrophic must have happened for the force to be speaking to him now.

The Jedi hangar opened to his ship with the usual security codes, no warnings coming through any of the emergency or normal frequencies, and it was serene as Obi-Wan landed, the great grey pillars casting light that reflected off the few spacecraft that remained. Most of the Jedi were off world, their forces stretched thin across the galaxy. Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt, remembering Cody’s worried cry as he turned and ran, remembering the entire 212th, probably confused and betrayed by their general’s retreat in what appeared to be a moment of victory. 

He could not worry about Cody now though; Anakin was a much more pressing concern.

 _In a total change of pace for me,_ Obi-Wan thought wryly to himself, even managing a small smile.

For more than a decade, Obi-Wan had spent every waking moment with his force-damned padawan and his first thought, his first worry, his first priority had been Anakin for so long, he’s not even sure he feels any more guilt for the one emotional connection he just couldn't seem to let go. For the first time, it seemed, the force agreed with him, Jedi code apparently be damned.

Powering the engines down and lowering the ramp, Obi-Wan hurried for the airlock, aiming to head straight for his and Anakin's apartments, and in his haste, nearly bowled a very pregnant senator over, who had clearly seen the ship land, and had run over to it.

“Obi-Wan!” she cried, half in shock and half in joy, “you’re back!” she smiled at him, enveloping him into a quick hug.

Letting go of Padmé and stepping back, suppressing the instinct that told him to keep walking and find Anakin, he forced a smile,

“Yes, I got a…message, I had to come back in a bit of a rush,” he evaded, and before he could escape her altogether with a hastily made excuse, he noted the tightness in Padmé’s shoulders, the redness of her eyes, and the tremble of her hands, visible despite the voluminous dress she wore. Once again unable to access the Force for the nauseating anxiety it threw back at him, he instead suppressed his impatience and fear and tempered his voice, “Is everything okay, Senator?” he asked.

It was as if his gentle words had cut the strings to a puppet.

Padmé suddenly fell to her knees, and alarmed, Obi-Wan tried to catch her, kneeling down on the durasteel ramp of the ship, “Padmé!” he called out, worried for her and the baby – _Anakin’s baby_ , his brain helpfully supplied, driving another knife through his heart as the old hurt ( _why did he never tell me_ ) and fear ( _he’s going to leave the order_ ) reared their ugly heads,

“It’s Anakin,” Padmé said, worry in her tone.

Ever a pillar of control, however, Padmé closed her eyes and took a deep breath, which she held for a few moments before releasing. As if to steel herself, she reached out blindly and Obi-Wan took her hand in his, the warmth of her soft skin a sharp contrast to the cold of the durasteel seeping through their robes as they sat in their strange tableau. The orange rays of the setting sun cast long shadows around them as it dipped below the massive, ornate arches of the landing bay’s windows. Padmé opened her eyes, still holding Obi-Wan’s hand, and bit her lip in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness, before she seemed to come to a decision. She started speaking,

“Anakin and I got married just after the clone wars had started, at Varynkino Lake, in Naboo’s Lake Country. I know we never told you, I know we left you out of the loop, and I can’t…” she broke off then, her eyes glassy with emotion as Obi-Wan could do nothing but stare back at her, “I can’t imagine how that must feel," she continued, "for you, as Anakin’s master and…and his friend, his closest friend,” Padmé swiped at her eyes quickly and carried on, as if now that she had started she had to keep going or never finish what she came here to achieve, “He loves you Obi-Wan, he always has, your opinion matters to him more than anything else. We hurt you, and I’m sorry, and I know I have no right to ask for your help now, but something is wrong, I can feel it,”

Finished, Padmé finally dropped her gaze to their joint hands.

Obi-Wan felt that he had been released from a spell that had been woven by her earnest gaze and let out a long breath. The jedi swallowed, feeling at once numb and emotionally overloaded. He had always suspected their relationship, knew it was serious and that Anakin was in love, but to have it confirmed as _marriage_ felt like another nail in the coffin for his relationship with Anakin.

More secrets. More lies.

Obi-Wan took another breath, willing himself to remain in the present.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Padmé looked back up at him, and continued, “Anakin came to me today, told me the council didn’t trust him. His emotions felt wrong, his-his presence felt wrong, I-I don’t know what it was exactly, but it felt different to my Ani. He spends so much time with the Chancellor these days, hours sometimes, in his office, and he doesn’t tell me what they talk about. I don’t know what he is doing anymore,” she took a sharp breath, rubbing the tears out of her eyes almost angrily, “he had a dream I died,” she added, almost too soft for Obi-Wan to hear over the gentle whistle of the wind through the hangar, cooling quickly now as the sun dropped below the horizon, and her grip tightened on his hand, “he had a dream, just like the one where his mother died, and he loves me, Obi-Wan. Jedi aren’t supposed to love, he knows that, but he loves me, and I fear he’s going to do something terrible,”

Obi-Wan could not bear to keep looking at the young woman, shrouded in black as if already in mourning, the setting sun casting golden rays off her finely crafted headband, her eyes sincere and sad. Even in her distress she was beautiful, and so strong to have come to him with all these secrets.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Obi-Wan knew he would have to deal with what he was feeling later. Only so many emotions could be released to the force before you had little choice but to feel them. However, he had always chosen the order, chosen his duty over himself. Once again, there was no place for his own feelings, not now.

Realising the silence was getting heavier as Padmé projected her fear of his rejection outward, Obi-Wan squeezed her hand back, forcing himself to move, forcing himself to continue.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

“Padmé, I will help him as much as I can,” Obi-Wan had to close his eyes again as the young woman threw herself onto him, finally allowing herself to cry, shaking with the force of her sobs. He patted her on the back, even as his mind ran ahead, thinking about what he needed to do, whom he needed to contact,

“I came back because of him,” Obi-Wan continued, proud his voice didn’t crack, even as every heartbeat brought a new lance of pain through his head.

It seems talk of Anakin only made things worse.

 _Hardly a new occurrence_ , Obi-Wan thought with somewhat grim humour, “do you have any idea where he might be?” he asked. 

Padmé sat back on her haunches, struggling to balance with the weight of her abdomen, 

“He said he was going back to the Chancellor, I don’t know where he’s going after that,”

“Alright, good, what I need you to do now, is get yourself to safety, Padmé,” Obi-Wan paused as he weighed the risk of telling her everything, before deciding the more information she had, the safer she would be, “you’re right, something is wrong. The force pulled me back here, and I intend to find Anakin and fix this. Can you find a way to Bail Organa? Tell him that I sent you, and that I told him to be prepared for anything. Tell him to pack for an evacuation and to have a shuttle ready for departure, just in case, and stay near it. Can you do that?”

Padmé nodded hurriedly. Obi-Wan helped her to her feet, wincing as his bruised body protested the movement. Force, he would give anything for a moment to actually rest, “Will you be okay?” Obi-Wan asked again, and Padmé wiped her face with her sleeve, a determined look settling on her face,

“I will be fine, go now, find him,” she commanded, and Obi-Wan nodded.

After watching her return to the ship she arrived in and depart safely, Obi-Wan turned and hurried into the temple.

There might still be a chance that he will be able to catch Anakin around Palpatine’s office, and there was a fast skylane from the temple to the senate around the other side, in the speeder docking bay.

The temple was quiet around him as Obi-Wan hurried through, uncaring of dignity or pride as he all but sprinted towards Anakin’s force signature, the urgency in the force spurring him onward. Despite their distance these days, Obi-Wan had never had any trouble finding Anakin. He shone so brightly in the force, and Obi-Wan was so familiar with his force signature that no matter the distance, he could always locate his former padawan.

Just as Obi-Wan was rounding the corner to the speeder bay, something struck him in the chest and all the wind was taken out of him. Falling to his hands and knees, Obi-Wan gasped, registering a nearby death in the force – a death of a powerful force user, a _familiar_ force user. Pushing through the nausea and pain, Obi-Wan reached for the bond, and was both pleased and terrified when it responded to his touch but reverberated with _something._

Something thick and cloying, threatening to devour his soul alive.

Horrified, Obi-Wan yanked his consciousness away and attempted to shield his mind.

Before Obi-Wan could even gather himself to get to his feet, another wave resounded through the force, darkness reaching its fingers into his very being, a terrible shift in the already unbalanced force. The stench of decay reached Obi-Wan and he feared he was late; he was too late to stop the vision he had seen. Feeling his grip on consciousness start to slip, the events of the day, the exhaustion post battle, and now the tumultuous force and poisonous training bond draining his energy, the Jedi master tried, one last time to call out through the force.

_Anakin!_

* * *

Obi-Wan regained consciousness slowly, awareness of his aching body and his position, lying face first on the floor with a sharp pain in his hip from the lightsaber, coming back to him.

Then he shot up, propelled by fear, quickly climbing to his feet. He staggered as a wave of dizziness hit him, both from the sudden movement and the sheer darkness and pain and death in the force around him, echoing stronger and louder than before. Having little idea of how much time had passed, Obi Wan blinked at the sight in front of him – a speeder, a very familiar illegally modified speeder to be precise – was parked in a previously empty bay.

Anakin was here.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in confusion, his mind slow and unresponsive.

Why hadn’t Anakin stopped to check on him? Why would Anakin walk past him?

Another wave of pain erupted in the force around him and Obi-Wan winced, clutching his chest.

_Ow. Maybe that was why._

Reaching for his reserves, Obi-Wan forced himself to focus with the force, pushing through the nausea and the consistent echo of death, to find the one force signature he had come so far for. With a sigh of relief Obi-Wan realised it was in the temple, here, near him. 

Igniting his sabre, Obi-Wan turned back out of the speeder bay, and hurried towards the front of the temple, aiming to reach the west wing, where he was sure Anakin was.

The sight that met him as he sprinted around the corner to face the atrium and grand entrance hall nearly made him lose his footing, as he came to a sliding halt, and his mouth fell open in shock. 

Clones.

Thousands of clones at the front entrance.

Clones attacking in a formation, and the last of the jedi left at the temple forming a desperate line of defence at the front doors. The great wooden structures, impressive and foreboding in their height, were hanging limp and smoking, off their hinges, having clearly been blown apart. The jedi were somehow keeping the clones out of the temple, bodies of dead clones lying in heaped piles at the feet of their brothers, just before the threshold.

For four thousand years the temple had sheltered and protected the jedi within. Now there weren’t enough jedi, and there were thousands of clones waiting behind their fallen brothers on the bridge leading out of the temple, stepping over their fallen comrades as if they didn’t matter at all, marching with determination towards them. 

Running forward with a cry he barely recognised as his own, Obi-Wan came to a stop beside his old friend Quinlan Vos, the jedi grinning manically at the new arrival, as Obi-Wan slotted himself into the defensive line, trying his hardest not to think of the master that lay at his feet, eyes open, staring unseeingly at the red coruscant sky visible outside, past the vaulted ceilings.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, always late to the party, as usual!” Quinlan cried, deflecting bolt after bolt, even as a padawan Obi-Wan did not know went down with a cry next to them, and they closed their line to become tighter, smaller, less efficient,

“What is happening?” Obi-Wan cried, and felt Quinlan’s sorrow in the force even as the jedi responded,

“Looks like this is the end for us, Obi,” he replied, grimacing as a bolt got through his defence and grazed past hisshoulder,

“We must retreat!” called the Jedi battle master, Cin Drallig, from behind,

“Where to?” Quinlan growled, and Obi-Wan’s sluggish mind finally responded to the situation rather than floundering in never before experienced panic,

“Down the back passage, the secret one we found when we were hiding from Qui-Gon and Master Bant when we were padawans!” Obi-Wan replied.

Next to him, Quinlan laughed even as his force signature cried, as they were all forced another step backward, closing ranks to form a semi-circle around the doors, the pile of clone bodies growing by the second, but their tenuous grip on the entrance, and thereby the temple, _our home,_ wavering, as a grenade exploded at their feet, showering them with pieces of flagstone, the worst of it held off with a quick force shield from Drallig,

“We have to move and move now, then!” Quinlan exclaimed, coughing in the dust, “A force push towards the front lines to buy us enough time, and then we have to run like sith hounds are on us, to the left, and for the archives,” Quinlan commanded, and the remaining jedi and padawans murmured their ascent, the smell of blood and death heavy around them,

“On the count of three,” Obi- wan called,

“One,” he deflected back two bolts and two clones died, two more faceless white soldiers stepping into the gap,

“Two,” a pained cry next to him echoed around the cavernous entrance hall, as more blood was split onto the hallowed flagstones beneath them,

“Three!”

The jedi acted as one, and sent a massive force push out in front of them, sweeping the first hundred clones off their feet and into the soldiers behind them. Covering their retreat at the back, Quinlan and Obi-Wan kept their sabres lit and their senses on stray blaster shots as they turned tail and sprinted for the archives, using the force to speed their steps.

As they turned a corner, out of the line of fire, the sound of boots on tiles echoed behind them, as the clones picked themselves up and quickly rallied to pursue the jedi.

Terror interlaced all their force signatures, desperation surrounded them, and they hurried onwards, taking the many turns and shortcuts that all of them knew so well. Obi-Wan reached out with the force, and found Anakin, one level away, somewhere nearby what felt like many children, their signatures smaller but cleaner somehow, less distorted than that of the young knight’s.

“Go on without me!” Obi-Wan cried, his words uneven due to his stride, pain lancing through his side as recent injuries made themselves known. Quinlan looked at him quizzically before he rolled his eyes and frowned,

“I kept telling you that Skywalker was going to get you killed one day!” he shot back, no true vitriol in his words,

“And I kept telling you to kriff off, Vos, but here we are,” Obi-Wan replied, fondness for his old friend warring with the need to get to Anakin,

“May the force be with you, Obi-Wan!” Vos panted as they reached the stairs leading down to the archive and he and Obi-Wan skidded to a stop, allowing the other jedi to continue downwards. The booted footsteps behind them were quieter now, getting lost in the multitude of turns and corridors of the temple as they chased their prey.

As the last of the jedi disappeared into the deep stairwell, ushered by the battlemaster, Drallig, Obi-Wan stopped for a moment to look at Quinlan. Then he reached out and pulled him into a quick hug, “and with you, my friend,” he replied, meaning every word, fully aware that by choosing to go to Anakin, his last chance at escape might be lost.

They spent only a moment more looking at each other, family by choice and soldiers now, with scars on their souls, and pain all around them, before Quinlan nodded and took off down the stairs.

Obi-Wan waited until his steps retreated, then hurried a little further along the corridor, before turning back to face the archive stairwell. Reaching out with the force, Obi-Wan once again ignored the roiling nausea and anxiety that washed over him, long enough to bring the ceiling crashing down over the entrance to the archives, cutting off this corridor leading back to the entrance hall, and therefore the only way down to the archives, hopefully keeping his old friend and all the jedi down there safe for at least a little while longer.

Satisfied that he did all he could, Obi-Wan turned and ran, blinking sweat out of his eyes as he hurried up the stairs, forcing himself to stay calm, and to keep going, because Anakin was near. He stumbled out of the landing onto the first floor, and jogged more than ran, limping now, as aches and pains from many battles, and new wounds from that last battle, overrode his ability to ignore them.

Finally, he came to the room where Anakin was, a meeting room similar to the council chambers, and the door opened with a hiss, revealing a tall hooded figure and eight children, one of whom was brave enough to approach the foreboding figure,

“Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?” the child asked, and Obi-Wan once again felt his chest constrict as oily, thick darkness settled over the room, settled over _Anakin,_ and Obi-Wan was suddenly very afraid.

“Anakin,” he called, his voice barely a whisper, before he straightened and walked into the room, feeling as though in a daze, as Anakin lit his sabre and turned to face him, “Anakin,” he said again, louder, as the young man he knew so well finally met his eyes.

Obi-Wan felt like his heart stopped.

For a moment, the bright blue eyes flickered to a deep, sulphuric yellow.

A yellow that the Jedi master had never even once thought he would see on his padawan’s face,

“I thought you were dead in the speeder bay. What are you doing here?” Anakin barked in an unfamiliar and cold voice, the hood throwing his face into shadow, as around him the children scrambled away, to the other side of the room, behind Obi-Wan, recognising that something was wrong, and this was perhaps not the Skywalker they’ve been following in every news holo and article,

“I-“Obi-Wan struggled with words, a fact not missed by his former student,

“Lost for words, _Master?”_ the former honorific, which Anakin called him by long after being knighted, which Anakin had usually spoken with such affection and warmth, now sounded like he was spitting poison and it hit Obi-Wan just the same, “you always had enough words to chastise me at every turn, but now, you have nothing to say? Now, as the Jedi order dies, is there nothing you wish to tell me?”

The blue lightsaber blade shook, as Obi-Wan realised Anakin had a white-knuckle grip on it, still at his side, but as dangerous as ever. Aware that he had the children behind him, Obi-Wan gathered himself for a fight, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He did not know how much more of this he could take.

He didn't know if he _could_ fight against Anakin, not in a training duel this time, but in a real battle. Could he raise his blade against the man who occupied so much of his universe without mortally wounding himself? Building his shields around his heart, and his mind, Obi-Wan fixed his gaze back onto Anakin,

“What do you know of what is happening here, Anakin? What do you mean by _your_ words?”

“It's over!” Anakin yelled, as if the simple challenge was too much, and he was suddenly right in front of Obi-Wan, the sabre held against the elder’s neck, no sounds but the hum of the weapon, their breathing, and the children’s quiet whimpers behind them.

“It's finally over! The jedi order is corrupt, it will destroy the galaxy and everything in it. It had to fall, and you will fall with it, Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled, hatred and revulsion lacing the force around him. Obi-Wan had to look away as yellow flickered once more around Anakin’s irises, threatening to overwhelm the blue altogether. Anakin pressed closer, the heat of the sabre so close that Obi-Wan was scared to swallow, his breaths and Anakin’s intermingling.

Anakin tilted his head to the side, as around him the force writhed, his soul seemingly caught in a maelstrom of emotion, “so many years I bore your precious council’s ridicule and hatred,” the young man whispered now, close enough that Obi-Wan could hear every confusing accusation,

“No, Ana-”

“SHUT UP!” the young man looked like he might press the sabre forward and Obi-Wan closed his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest.

How did they get here? 

“Keep your snake tongue in your mouth! What a fool you made of me, Obi-Wan, sitting in the council chambers and lying to me, manipulating me, _using_ me, all the while pretending your sacred jedi oaths made you better than me, _worthier_ than me,” before Obi-Wan could answer, Anakin reached out with his left hand and yanked Obi-Wan’s head back by his hair, exposing more of his throat, and Obi-Wan was utterly helpless.

Drained of his energy, the bond between them roaring with darkness, the blackness almost alive and trying to seep into his consciousness, Obi-Wan could do nothing to defend himself physically, using the last of his reserves to protect his mind,

“You wanted me to die, you wanted Padmé to die, I know you did, I know you’d take her from me! The Chancellor has shown me all the truths, he has helped me where none of you would, where you abandoned me!" the words came quickly, Anakin sounding unhinged,

"He has shown me what hypocrites you all are, how none of you serve anything but yourselves. I will serve greatness, I will serve my new master Sidious gladly!” Anakin declared, still examining his former master’s face as if he was seeing it for the first time.

Letting go of Obi-Wan roughly he suddenly stepped back, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath, a hand coming up automatically to rub at his throat, where a fine red line had formed from the sabre, “what do you say in your defence, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, almost calmly this time, as if he hadn’t just fallen to the dark, as if he hadn’t betrayed the order, betrayed _Obi-Wan,_ as if calling another person master didn’t tear what was left of Obi-Wan’s broken heart to pieces – as if he hadn’t come here to where the younglings were hiding, with intent to harm.

Obi-Wan’s heart stuttered at the very thought of his gentle padawan hurting the children with whom he had spent many hours a week playing with, before the war, before the force-damned mess they seem to have gotten into, “I say you’re wrong Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, looking up into a furious gaze, trying to keep the hurt and shock out of his expression, “the Chancellor has manipulated you, and he’s lied to you.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was tired, he could barely muster the next words, “I admit I lied to you once, with the Rako Hardeen incident, and I regret it deeply, but I have never used you, I have never manipulated you, Anakin, I –“ _love you._ The words failed him and Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, folding his left arm across his chest, where a deep ache had settled, and resting his right over his eyes,

“My name is Lord Vader,” Anakin spat back and Obi-Wan felt lightheaded, his eyes snapping back to Anakin’s face even as joy flickered across it, clearly knowing he had struck another blow against his former master, revelling in the pain that Obi-Wan could not stop projecting across their still, somehow intact bond,

“Call yourself what you will, your mother named you Anakin,” Obi-Wan hissed back, the hurt turning inwards and manifesting as anger, unable to stop his words even as he knew they were _wrong, wrong, so wrong_.

There was a moment of stillness, and then a wave of rage radiated outwards from the newly made sith, hitting Obi-Wan before he could reach for his sabre, and the children screamed as all the glass shattered around them, onto them, the cold evening air of Coruscant rushing into the room,

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HER?” Anakin roared, throwing Obi-Wan back against the wall, as the children scurried into the other corner, their terror adding to the chaos in the force.

Obi-Wan struggled weakly, his lightsaber fallen to the floor, himself, pinned against the wall by a crushing force, “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HER WHEN YOU DIDN’T LIFT A FINGER TO HELP?”

Obi-Wan choked as the crushing pressure migrated upwards and settled around his throat. Behind him the children were screaming, but everything was getting fuzzier around the edges, his vision beginning to blur. Breaths were getting harder by the second, and Obi-Wan felt tears welling in his eyes as Anakin’s face, full of pain and hate, and those glowing yellow eyes, filled his vision.

Having absolutely nothing left to lose, Obi-Wan brought down his mental shields, and opened the bond, immediately getting hit with tidal wave of emotions.

Anger. Hate. Fear. Pain. Grief. Sorrow. Disgust. Regret.

As the life ebbed out of him, Obi-Wan projected outwards, trying to swim against the current of darkness that swamped his soul, the bond open and more communicative that it had been in years. He felt Anakin’s force presence recoil from the light he brought with him, guilt and shame joining the emotional fray as his light searched for the light still with Anakin.

His chest was aching, his throat was closed.

He sent a final message outward.

_I failed you Anakin. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You have and always will be my deepest attachment._

Blackness.

A moment of stillness over the room.

Anakin stood at the centre of it all, his robes billowing backwards, an arm outstretched to where Obi-Wan was slumped against the wall.

The children, huddled in a corner, opposite to where he stood.

Glass and fragments of wood strewn across the floor.

The carpet torn and dotted with blood.

Obi-Wan was dropped as suddenly as he had been pinned, landing flat on his chest and striking his head against the floor, gratefully taking in massive gulps of air as he lay unable to move, shaking from head to toe, his vision returning slowly.

A pained scream filled the room, and Obi-wan shakily raised his head, his eyes watering, coughing painfully, as a wind rushed around them, though the weather outside was calm. Anakin had dropped his lightsaber in front of him, the metal glinting harmlessly in the low light, and the man himself was holding his head with both hands, writhing in pain, stumbling around the room. The force around him was so bright with conflict it felt like looking into the twin suns back on Tatooine.

“No!” Anakin cried as he fell to his knees, then onto all fours, his back arching, and twisting, his eyes screwed tightly shut, as a chair was hurled out the window and the children screamed as another part of the roof collapsed, closer to the door.

Obi-Wan struggled to sit up, managing to kneel with the aid of a nearby chair lying on its side, caught in the literal storm Anakin was creating, held in place by the winds of Anakin’s struggle,

“Anakin!” he cried out, his voice hoarse and painful to use, a pain quickly forgotten as the younger man’s eyes snapped open.

Obi-Wan could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Anakin’s irises were flickering from blue to yellow every few seconds and Anakin’s fingers scrabbled at his chest, as if trying to claw his own organs out.

“Obi-Wan,” the younger man moaned, and this time, it was not Vader’s voice, but Anakin’s. Obi-Wan threw himself across the floor, crawling so that he was right in front of his former padawan,

“Anakin?” he asked, sitting on the floor with his back against a chair, as Anakin fell forwards, across his legs and into his lap, his entire body convulsing, “Anakin!” he cried again, reaching out and placing his hands on his shoulder, fear making his hands shake as he brushed the younger man’s hair off his face, soothing motions from a lifetime lived together. 

Obi-Wan did not notice the wind die down, nor the passage of nearly ten minutes, as the children picked themselves up, calmed themselves down and checked each other over, ever the exemplary jedi initiates.

He had eyes only for his padawan.

Anakin’s eyes flickered open again, finally, blue as a summer sky this time, “Master…” he mumbled, his eyes unfocused and Obi-Wan’s heart swelled, before crashing back down as Vader’s hardness returned and the yellow seeped in around the edges like a toxic cloud, giving an odd green colour where it met, as Anakin battled with himself,

“I hate you,” came the spiteful words Obi-Wan heard a thousand times through Anakin’s teenage years, but never had they hit home so closely. Never had Obi-Wan been so vulnerable, “I hate you and I hate the Jedi, and I hate what you've done to me,” Anakin continued, in a whisper though, as his body shook.

Unable to take anymore, his own head pounding and every muscle and joint aching, Obi-Wan raised a bruised and bleeding hand to lay it on Anakin’s temple. The young man attempted to jerk away from Obi-Wan but before he could, Obi-Wan reached back for their bond, and stole some of the corrupted, black force energy from Anakin. Before the darkness could get a grip on him, he commanded, “Sleep,”

And Anakin did, the force finally quieting down around them.

Obi-Wan looked up then, at the little circle of the last jedi younglings standing around, tear stains down their face, cuts from the glass leaving red marks over their once pristine robes. They were otherwise unharmed, and quiet now, looking at him with the same respectful silence they afforded every master during lesson time.

Before he could even muster a sentence of reassurance, the doors slid open, and Obi-Wan had his sabre in hand and lit before he could push Anakin off his lap and stand up, force shoving and pulling the children behind him, ready for whatever new terror the galaxy was going to throw his way.

Kriff, he had just been attacked by his own padawan and saved the children, nothing was going to touch them now, as long as he still drew breath, “Who goes there?” he called out, struggling to see through the dust and low light, the lights having been blown out. 

With a sense of calm settling over him, no doubt projected by the Grandmaster in front of them, Obi-Wan recognised Master Yoda as he walked through the door, and heaved a sigh of relief, powered down his lightsaber as he collapsed back down to the floor, against the chair. The sudden surge of adrenaline left him as shaky as Anakin, and he pulled the young man’s head and shoulders off the floor and back onto his lap.

The children ran up to Yoda, all of them talking a mile a minute, their voices clamouring over each other, as they tried to recount what happened, clearly deeming Masters Obi-Wan and Skywalker a lost cause.

Closing the doors behind him with a hiss and adding a layer of force shielding to the room, Yoda looked past the children and towards Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Obi-Wan felt a moment of shame.

Anakin, his student, his failure.

Their attachment, their bond, quiet now, but alive and raw, was plain to see for anyone with even a small connection to the force. Yoda seemed to be thinking, stooped and leaning on his stick, before he said,

“Good it is, the bond you didn’t sever,” and Obi-Wan deflated, letting his head thud back against the chair as his heart fluttered in his chest, faster than usual and his mind felt foggy,

“Children, good it is you are here, listen to you later I will. Prepare we must, to leave. Chancellor Palpatine a Sith Lord is,” Obi-Wan’s head jerked back up in shock,

“What?” he asked, eloquently, balking at the idea that the 'Master Sidious' Anakin had referred to was the Chancellor, the same man who smiled kindly at a young anakin, and invited his confidences and - force - Obi-Wan paled at the secondary realisation that they hadn't even noticed one of their own being so slyly taken from them.

Yoda waved the children back and stepped forward to sit on the floor opposite Obi-Wan, as Obi-Wan pulled his mind back to the present, “Younglings, sit with us, you will,” the grandmaster said, and the children immediately obeyed, happy to have someone who was in control.

Obi-Wan felt another wave of guilt, wishing he had some energy left to look after the children with whom they were entrusted,

“Listen Master Kenobi, you will,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan only nodded, keeping one small part of his mind on Anakin’s state of consciousness, a hand in his hair, still making the soothing motions to encourage sleep,

“I think…I had better tell you-” Obi-Wan started, his throat tight and painful from the abuse,

“To the dark side, has young Skywalker fallen,” Yoda interrupted and Obi-Wan was grateful he didn’t have to say it aloud.

He was not truly ready yet.

The youngling’s murmured, alarmed that such a great jedi master could have fallen, ‘many there are to blame, the time to talk about it now, it is not,” Yoda added, as if guessing where Obi-Wan’s thoughts had gone, “Bail Organa, to us, will come in another minute, a tracking device on me have I,” Yoda continued and Obi-Wan felt a spike of alarm,

“Here? This is the worst place he could possibly be!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, his voice hoarse, tasting blood,

“The battle for the temple, over it is,” Yoda said, his entire being infused with sadness, “Fallen, the Jedi Order has, on fire is most of the building. Gone is everything.”

His words were met with a painful silence as all within the room realised that they were possibly the last remaining jedi,

“Do you know…if Quinlan and Master Drallig…led their group away?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, afraid of the answer,

“Safe, his group is, picked up by Bail Organa as they made their escape, they were” Yoda nodded and Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. He was unsure how much more loss he could deal with in a single day, “shielded we are in this room for now. Find us, they will not,” Yoda continued, his age showing in his eyes as he looked past Obi-Wan’s shoulder and out into the unaffected Coruscant traffic, still travelling above and below them,

“Leave Coruscant we must. To another temple we will go. Old it is. Shield us from Palpatine, it will, few aware of it are,” Obi-Wan frowned, concerned about being trapped in a place strong with the force with a very volatile Anakin for only the force knew how long,

“Master, is there…nowhere else?” he croaked out, pausing frequently as his throat burned, “Somewhere…less imbued...with the force?”

“The force only protection we have now,” Yoda said, his words slow, and resigned, “use it, we must. Teach the children and keep them safe, we must.” He looked down at the sleeping former jedi in Obi-Wan’s lap, his robes pooled around him, his face softer in the low light and freedom of unconsciousness, “in Skywalker, light there is still. You, his light have always been,” Obi-Wan flushed a deep red, surprised at his own body’s ability to still display embarrassment despite the bone deep exhaustion. Years of never speaking of any attachments of any sort have left him unable to express it even now though, even to the Grandmaster who already knew everything, “save him, you must,” Yoda added.

The sounds of a large engine could be heard then, approaching them through the open windows and everyone’s eyes shifted,

“Where are we going now, masters?’ asked a little girl, Hautie, aged ten, Obi-Wan remembered, brought to them at two, she showed great promise. Master Windu had spent the last couple of years observing and training the girl to hopefully take her on as a padawan,

“We will leave…and we will heal,” Obi-Wan said, at last finding the words that made other people feel better. There were few words left that might help him, though “we will not…let the dark side win...youngling,”

She smiled at him, her dimples and blonde hair one of the many things that endeared her to Anakin and himself, when they had taught the little ones.

Obi-Wan’s heart ached once more for the simpler times.

“Master Yoda, are we really just going to leave this place? Don’t they need us here?” one of the smaller boys piped up, Jayden, seven years old, and still shaking from his ordeal, though he controlled his emotions much better than Anakin ever did, even at ten. Yoda turned his large eyes on the young boy,

“No place here there is for Jedi, youngling,” Yoda said, reaching out a gentle hand to run it through the little boy’s hair, “go we must, strengthen ourselves we must,”

“Master…” Obi-Wan started, as the jets of a shuttle got even louder outside the windows, and Yoda reached out, and laid a hand over Obi-Wan’s,

“Many questions you have, many losses we have. Leave now we must. Talk later, we must also,” Yoda said and Obi-Wan nodded, acknowledging his master’s words, but feeling cast adrift. The very foundations of his entire life had been shaken in the course of a couple of hours and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

A ship finally pulled up outside, the wind from its turbine’s shaking the room, and causing the children to light up with excitement. Its ramp was open, a grim-faced Bail Organa standing there in his travelling cloak and boots, gesturing for them to hurry, no words audible over the might of the engines. Yoda rose to his feet gracefully, and reaching out an arm, he levitated Anakin up, and began to walk to the ship. Obi-Wan gestured for the younglings to follow him as Bail shouted something back into the ship, and the ship moved as close as it could to the building, the ramp just touching the frame where the glass had been.

Slower and much stiffer than Yoda had moved, Obi-Wan managed to get himself to his feet.

He felt weighed down as if by durasteel, his mind covered in a fog. Even quiet, his bond with Anakin felt almost infected – hot and painful, a constant ache in the back of his mind.

Stumbling forward, Obi-Wan tripped and fell into Bail’s arms, not hearing the older man’s words, only slightly aware that he was carried into the ship as the ramp closed behind them, and the pilot shot up for space, as ground forces noticed them and began shooting.

Around Obi-Wan, people moved.

Voices cried, and there was a feeling of great loss in the air.

Obi-Wan could not keep his eyes open.

Hearing the voices around him grow more panicked, Obi-Wan felt himself fall again, and then the blackness of unconsciousness took him, into blissful peace.

* * *

**So this is the first chapter! Tell me how you found it! Please also let me know if there are glaring inaccuracies regarding descriptions of places or characters, this universe is massive and I definitely struggled to find descriptions of all the things. I know Obi-Wan really needs a hug, and for that matter so does Anakin. The next chapter is already mostly written and I would love to say that things get better for the boys and their friends but it's Star Wars so here we are.**

**I will aim for fortnightly updates, but I'm in the writing mood, so it might go quicker. I don't see this going over 5 chapters, with what I have planned, but you know how it is haha.**

**Love you all, thank you for reading <3 **


	2. November Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé being her wonderful self. Babies. Emotions. My God, so many emotions. Obi-Wan gets a hug. Things go to the dogs. The Usual Stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Character death. Grief, and coping with grief. Also a suicide attempt.

**Chapter 2 – November Rain**

**And when you fears subside, and shadows still remain**

**I know that you can love me, when there’s no-one left to blame,**

**So never mind the darkness, we can still find a way**

**‘Cause nothing lasts forever, Even cold November rain.**

**- _November Rain, Guns N’ Roses._**

The first thing that came back to Obi-Wan was the extraordinary comfort of the bed he was lying on, his head resting on what felt like a real feather pillow. The sounds around him were the familiar ones of a good ship – gentle air from the recyclers, the quiet rattle of some furniture with turbulence, gentle creaks of the ship’s body – a ship that was on the move. The bed was much better than anything he had on the Negotiator, though, and even more comfortable than the one in his and Anakin’s apartments at the temple.

He was warm, a soft and heavy blanket was lying over him, and his whole body felt cleaner than it had for a long time. 

It was wonderful simply existing there for a moment, until a cry reached Obi-Wan’s ears.

A woman’s cry, filled with pain, somewhere nearby.

Utapau, Grievous. The temple. The jedi. The clones. Anakin.

_Anakin!_

Obi-Wan forced his eyes open despite their reluctance, pain radiating from just about everywhere, the feel of bandages around what felt like his entire torso becoming apparent, though they were soft and comfortable, unlike the rough plastic-based bandages he had become familiar with over the years. He did not remember being injured, but his mind was clearly not the most reliable narrator.

Obi-Wan winced as he forced himself into a sitting position, the blue blanket falling off his shoulders and pooling onto his lap as he took stock of the room.

He was sitting on a large double bed, which was attached to the wall in the centre of the room. A small kitchenette sat off to the back, with what looked like a real leather lounge and holo projector directly across from the bed, and a private fresher on the left, closer to the door leading out of the cabin. A large wooden desk sat behind him, next to the large viewport, with his and Anakin’s lightsabres resting carefully against the wall.

No, this was not military standard at all, but Obi-Wan acknowledged that Bail Organa, to whom this luxurious ship most probably belonged to, did not have to live as frugally as his jedi friends.

Gingerly bringing his legs over the bunk, Obi-Wan frowned as he realised there were no boots in the room, and all his clothes had been changed, leaving him in a t-shirt and loose exercise pants.

Another pained cry reached him, and he frowned at his inability to focus on the task at hand, forcing himself into a standing position, gripping the ornate wooden bed frame for stability.

His body was aching, but it was dulled by what felt like strong pain tabs. His hands were mostly steady as he raised them to brush his hair off his forehead and padded forward on bare feet, surprised to find the metal floor was warm, like cement or rock that had been gently baked by the sun.

Taking small and slow steps, he examined the multitude of cuts and smaller bandages over his wrists and forearms, bare as they were, under which the skin was more black, blue, and yellow than his actual light skin tone.

The doors slid open as he approached them, and he leaned on the doorframe as he walked out, taking in his surroundings.

The gentle blue lights running in grooves in the ceiling illuminated a clean, marbled black floor and white metal walls, decorated with landscape pictures and artwork. It seemed to be a standard luxury passenger ship, with the corridor to the right leading past other bedrooms and living areas, then up to the cockpit, and the corridor to the left leading to the mess and recreation areas at the back of the ship, likely having another floor beneath this one for utility and storage.

Following the voices, Obi-Wan used the wall for support as he turned left, following the curve of the corridor which brought him to a large, round dining room, a rectangular opening opposite him most likely for food service.

It was the centre of the room that immediately caught Obi-Wan’s attention however, where Bail, his wife, Breha, a med droid and C3PO were gathered around Padmé, who had at some point gone into labour. She was lying on the largest dining table, surrounded by sheets, pillows and blankets. Her abdomen and legs were covered with a blue blanket, Breha and the med-droid at her feet, coaching her through her contractions. Bail and C3PO were at her head, offering comfort and support where they could.

As Padmé was facing the entrance to the sleeping quarters, her face lit up when she spotted Obi-Wan, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. Realising that she wanted him there by the force around her, Obi-Wan moved forward into the dimmer lights of the mess with some difficulty.

“Obi-Wan, you should be bed!” Breha called, momentarily distracted from Padmé, but staying where she was,

“Keeping Obi-Wan in bed requires physical restraints, love, I told you,” Bail commented, but he looked just as worried as he surveyed his friend. Obi-Wan met his gaze and tried to summon a grin but produced more of a grimace, as he manoeuvred around the tables and used the backs of the chairs to support his weight as he walked forward,

“As much as…I know you…like tying people up…in bed, Bail…” Obi-Wan stopped, struggling to get a whole sentence out, his voice hoarse and pain lancing through his entire frame.

He leant against one of the tables, giving up on his witty quip in favour of not passing out, as C3PO fretted and came over to offer a supporting arm. Pride already broken from today, Obi-Wan took it, and limped over to Bail, who had pulled up a chair for him to the right of Padmé’s head, who watched quietly but smiled as Obi-Wan neared, also too tired to make conversation it seemed. The jedi dropped into the chair with a huff and steadied himself with some breaths, reaching out to take Padmé ’s right hand in his as another contraction started and she groaned, even as Breha kept encouraging her to keep going, keep pushing.

It passed after what felt like a lifetime to Obi-Wan, hating to see his good friend in such pain, sitting in the seat traditionally occupied by the father, as Breha yelled, “nearly there, Padmé, one more!” and Padmé complied, pushing with all her strength as another contraction hit, Bail murmuring encouragements on her left side and Obi-Wan sending as much calm as he could through the force, his voice useless to him. 

A tense moment, and then there was a joyous yell from Breha, and a loud baby’s cry, as she held up a tiny, squirming, pink faced, little boy.

Obi-Wan let out a sound of joy and Padmé started crying, turning to look at Obi-Wan in elation, her grip tight on his hand. Breha wrapped the little bundle in one of the small blue blankets she had nearby and handed him to Obi-Wan, who immediately leaned forward with the babe, so Padmé could kiss him and stroke his hair and his nose, and his chin, each touch filled with adoration,

“Luke Skywalker,” she said with a laugh even as she cried, and Obi-Wan felt his composure slip entirely, a weak laugh leaving him, joy and sorrow mixing together, wishing with all his heart that it was Anakin here instead of him, to share this moment with his wife,

“I can see the other head now, Padmé. When you feel the next contraction, I am going to need you to push, darling, can you do that?” Breha’s voice sounded from the other end of the table.

Sniffling, Padmé nodded, turning away from her son to look at Breha. Obi-Wan blinked at the baby in his arms, not comprehending,

“Other…head?” he croaked, looking at Bail and the older man grinned happily,

“Twins!” he called back, holding up two fingers in case Obi-Wan needed extra information and the jedi felt a surge of joy. Two lives! Two new, beautiful lives born on this day of mourning. What a strange galaxy they lived in,

“You can do it, Padmé,” he whispered to her, taking the damp rag that C3PO passed to him with his free hand, Luke safely cradled in the crook of his left arm, and wiped her brow. The look of gratitude she gave him made him hold Luke a little tighter, wishing he could bear some of the pain for her. He placed the rag down and took her hand again as another contraction hit,

“Yes, Padmé, now, push!” and the senator did, screaming even as Luke nestled comfortably in Obi-Wan’s arms, his breathing steady, his blue eyes open, seemingly enraptured by Obi-Wan’s face. 

Padmé went limp against the bed, breathing heavily as the contraction finished and Breha shouted for joy once more, “A girl! A girl Padmé!” as the little girl in question let out an almighty howl and struggled against the cold and bright world she was born into.

“A girl,” Padmé breathed, turning so she could reach her left hand out to lay on Luke’s head, “a sister,” she said to Luke and Obi-Wan both, as the little girl was bundled and handed to Bail, on Padmé’s left side.

Padmé turned to face him, “Leia, her name should be Leia Skywalker,” she said breathlessly, glowing with pride and delight as Bail held Leia close to her mother, crouched next to their makeshift bed.

Obi-Wan’s heart felt full to burst. From the moment he saw the little ones he felt captivated. How could such small beings make his heart so full?

Obi-Wan should have known such happiness could not last.

Though he, Padmé and Bail could not see what was happening, Obi-Wan and Bail exchanged a worried look as Breha’s voice grew low and urgent, and the med droid spoke in rapid sentences.

Holding Leia now, and with Luke pressed against her side, still supported by Obi-Wan, Padmé looked to the jedi,

“What are they saying?” she asked, her voice weak, and her eyes not as bright or focused as they normally were,

“I’m sure it’s okay,” Obi-Wan replied, running a fresh cool rag supplied by 3PO over her heated forehead. Breha came around so that she could look at Padmé, and Obi-Wan was alarmed at the amount of blood on her hands and gown, though he wasn’t sure if that was normal for a birth,

“You’re losing a little bit too much blood at the moment, Padmé, and the second placenta doesn’t seem to be moving out. We’re going to need to move you to the medbay if that’s okay, dear?” she said and Padmé nodded,

“Can Obi-Wan and my babies come?” she asked, her voice shaking, nothing like the confident one she used to easily command attention on the senate floor,

“Of course,” Breha said, as she directed her husband to hand Leia to Obi-Wan, and then to help the med-droid to get Padmé off the table they were using as a bed, and onto the hover trolley standing nearby.

Now holding both of the twins, Luke sleeping peacefully and Leia moving around fretfully for having been removed from her mother’s side, Obi-Wan followed them, feeling entirely out of his depth, but determined to support Padmé any way that he could, momentarily ignorant of his own aching body.

The med bay was bright, white, and sterile, some way down a branching corridor leading out from the mess, and Padmé was moved efficiently onto the operating table.

Breha slipped a mask onto Obi-Wan’s face as Bail brought a chair for him so that Padmé could continue to see him and the babies.

Both Breha and the droid got scrubbed and dressed as Bail exited, and Padmé reached out to lay a hand over Obi-Wan’s left hand, the one holding Luke, “you will look after them?” she asked quietly in a weak voice, as a screen went up over her abdomen, and they injected a regional anaesthetic.

Obi-Wan felt a stab of fear, “ _We_ will look after them,” he corrected, “you’re going to be the best mother,” he added, clearing his throat, “I don’t remember mine very much…but I think your little ones will…be so grateful to have you,”

Padmé gave him a watery smile as tears leaked out of her eyes, her hand feeling so much colder than it did all those hours ago in the Jedi hangar, as she pleaded with him to save her husband,

“I wish,” she broke off with a sob, “I wish Ani were here,” and Obi-Wan felt his eyes burn, all the sorrow of the last few hours amplified by the precious bundles he held in his arms, and the moments that he had stolen from Anakin, “not-not that I’m not grateful you are, but-”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan croaked out, wishing his voice was better, wishing he had the words to fill the gap Anakin had left in their lives.

He didn’t even know where Anakin was, couldn’t feel his force signature now, and their bond was fully dampened, so wherever it was, it was probably force blocked.

Alarms went off around them, Breha let out a frustrated yell, and Padmé’s eyes flickered closed,

“Padmé!” Obi-Wan called out, leaning forward as her mouth moved,

“There is light in him…please don’t give up,” her breath ghosted across his ear as the twins stirred fretfully in his arms.

Then she gasped, shuddered, and breathed no more.

Later, he would remember that after a terrible period of desperate resuscitation, the med-droid stepped back and shook its metallic head. He would remember Breha wiping her eyes, pulling a sheet over Padmé ’s face, and ushering him out of the theatre, where he had sat motionless with two new little lives in his arms, watching their mother and senselessly willing her to wake up. He would remember Breha crying in Bail’s arms, speaking of the massive post-partum haemorrhage that they could not stop, a problem with the placenta being stuck in place.

Later Obi-Wan would let the tears fall, for another beloved friend dying in front of him, and he, helpless to stop it.

In the present though, all he remembered was placing the crying twins into the makeshift crib in the Organa’s quarters and instructing the droid to care for them. He left quickly, allowing Breha and Bail privacy in their grief, retreating to his own cabin, and sitting on the bed, numb.

Staring at the cabin wall, feeling nothing but an occasional tremor passing through him, was exactly how Yoda found him nearly an hour later, the old grandmaster looking even more tired and old than he did that morning. He shuffled in slowly, and sat next to Obi-Wan, also looking at the wall in front of them. There was silence for a while, as Obi-Wan took comfort in another force presence next to him, comfort in the calm that Yoda always radiated.

Finally, Yoda spoke, “Sorry I am. Great loss to us all, Senator Amidala is,” he said and Obi-Wan slowly felt some of the numbness fade and roaring grief seep in to take its place in the silence that followed.

It was both worse and better at the same time,

“Beautiful, the children are. Strong with the force, they both are,” Yoda added and Obi-Wan nodded. He had felt it too, when he had held them. A small, pure force essence in both, brighter than the others present on the ship. It was only to be expected given that their father was – no, he could not even think the name now,

“Skywalker locked in the brig with force suppressant collar is,” Yoda said, turning to look at the young jedi master next to him, “yellow his eyes are, dark the force around him is. Asking for you he has been since we arrived,”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes then, unsure whether he was strong enough to see him. Not when he had held his children and Ana- _he_ hadn’t. Not when his throat still burned with every breath, his leg ached with every step and a deep pain had settled in his chest, a pain that had nothing to do with his physical injuries.

“Reluctance I sense in you,” Yoda noted and Obi-Wan nodded again, the silence stretching between them, before Obi-Wan said, looking straight ahead,

“I…am not…a good jedi…Master Yoda,”

The crackly words were met with a stony silence.

Obi-Wan dropped his head, the shame welling up within him. He was supposed to be better than this. He should have been able to face- to face-

 _Anakin_ – _why does it hurt so much to think a name?_

He should have been able to easily move past his emotions and his own anger, _force_ , he had so much anger. He should have been able to easily push aside his bitterness. He should not have had any reason to feel so betrayed.

Yet he did, he felt it all, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Yoda hmphed angrily then, “Yourself, the blame does not solely lay on,” he said firmly, banging his stick on the floor, causing Obi-Wan to raise his eyes to the grandmaster’s in surprise at the irritated tone, completely breaking him out of his own thoughts, “you his only friend were, you the only person to him listened. We, the council, have young Skywalker failed,” Yoda said, a note of finality that meant he wasn’t going to argue about it.

Obi-Wan gaped at him, “Master-” he started, but Yoda frowned again, hmphed, and got to his feet, moving so that he was standing directly in front of Obi-Wan,

“Time we have not, Obi-Wan,” Yoda said, his voice grave, and Obi-Wan felt another spike of guilt, accepting the words as appropriate chastisement for his behaviour, and was therefore extremely surprised when Yoda actually hit him in the chest with his stick, sending sharp, stinging pain through the centre of his sternum, “guilt feel you should not!” Yoda growled, not needing to raise his voice to convey his anger,

“Wrong we were! Meditate on this I did, and balance to the force no longer impossible is! Balance restored can be! Feel I do that change we need. _Feel_ your emotions, you must!” Yoda insisted, his voice matching the intensity in his eyes, “ignore feelings we must not! Skywalker saved will not be if feel you do not! Teachings, you will forget. Bond, you must use, when ready you are!’ Obi-Wan blinked at his master, his right hand rubbing his chest somewhat absentmindedly.

The very foundations upon which he had built his life, had, in the space of the last ten hours, completely crumbled. He hadn’t had even had a moment’s reprieve to deal with that life-changing development before another of his closest friends died, cruelly, leaving him with two babies and a terrible mix of elation and deep grief, that still burnt inside him. That Yoda was now telling him the last thirty-five years of his life were perhaps built on the wrong principles altogether should not have surprised him.

Yet this was a difficult thing for Obi-Wan to even comprehend.

From his very first memories, control of emotions and peace in the force was the one lesson repeated at every stage of his training. Being told now to _feel_ and that he was going to _need_ to feel if he was ever to help his old friend – surely that way lay madness?

What he feels for Anakin borders on the unhealthy, different layers of emotion woven into a single name, a single person. First, the initial affection of a mentor that evolved very quickly, precocious as Anakin had always been, into comradery and friendship. An edge of frustration then, as Anakin grew into a young man who fought with the tenants of their faith, of their order, but still an aspect of love that allowed Obi-Wan to overlook Anakin’s behaviour and disregard for authority where other masters would never have tolerated it. A different kind of frustration, then, and a bitter shard of pain as Anakin grew apart from him, chose others over him, _loved_ others over him – yet still, through it all, a love that endured the anguish, and persisted onwards.

The same love that fostered the attachment had also kept the bond alive – and the bond might have been the only reason he, the children and Anakin were here right now, his last desperate message somehow getting through to Anakin in his darkest moments.

Obi-Wan’s reality was a love lived with guilt, and a guilt that existed because of the love.

A habit of thirty-five years was going to be hard to break.

Looking into his grandmaster’s eyes – eyes that had overseen the downfall of a four-thousand-year old institution, eyes that showed real regret, real sorrow - Obi-Wan knew his answer,

“I…will…try,” he rasped, and Yoda moved forward then, very uncharacteristically, to pull Obi-Wan into a hug, their heights still unmatched even with Yoda standing and Obi-Wan sitting. Obi-Wan returned the hug gladly, feeling as though with the grandmaster’s words, with his total acceptance of Obi-Wan and his many flaws, the dam he had been holding over his mind for the last hour or so cracked, and then disintegrated entirely.

To his great mortification, Obi-Wan felt himself crying, pulling away from Yoda, trying to hide his face, as Yoda simply stood in front of him, and projected calm acceptance into the force, which only served to deepen the tidal wave of emotions hitting the younger jedi.

Every loss seemed to resonate in his soul.

Commander Cody and the entire 212th, now most probably one of many of the faceless soldiers in the new empire, if they were not already dead.

Padmé, so much more than a mother and a wife, but given so little time with her family.

All the other children they could not save. The countless jedi across the galaxy, gunned down by their own soldiers. The temple, desecrated and burning in the centre of the city they had protected with their blood.

And at the heart of all his pain, _Anakin_.

Obi-Wan grieved for the jedi knight he had been, the goodness in Anakin, which he had seen so often. He grieved the suffering his former padawan had to have felt for his soul to have become so deformed, so dark. He mourned his own blindness, how he had missed that darkness growing in Anakin entirely, or ignored it, trusting in the force and the council, holding onto their code to Anakin’s great detriment. Obi-Wan sobbed for the loss of their friendship, the lies and half-truths and secretive behaviours that drew them further and further apart.

Yoda stood with him, a hand on his shoulder as Obi-Wan curled into himself. His force signature present, like a blanket around him, as Obi-Wan did exactly what the grandmaster had asked and _felt_ everything, every single thing that he had repressed, bottled up, and planned to give to the force.

Obi-Wan was unsure when his tears subsided, leaving him feeling hollow, but somehow better – alive in a way he had not felt in a very long time.

Yet, he wondered briefly if he could perhaps die of embarrassment to save himself having to feel that too, because it really is one thing to talk about your feelings with the grandmaster of the entire jedi order, and quite another to wail like a child in front of him for force knows how long.

Clearing his throat and gathering the small, torn, shreds of his dignity, Obi-Wan finally sat up straight on the bed, looking at his grandmaster, whom he was surprised to see had equally wet eyes,

“Sorry, I am,” Yoda grumbled, his voice low and serious, reaching out with his force signature again, bringing that calmness with him, “young you are to have lost so much,”

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, the grandmaster’s words acting almost like bacta over his open, bleeding wounds, “I am…alive,” Obi-Wan said, “Anakin is…alive. We have…survived,” he continued, “the younglings…have survived. Bail, Breha, Quinlan, the padawans, Luke, Leia,” he felt his eyes burn again, thinking of the twins, and pressed his lips together, willing his emotions to ease off.

He had been repressing a lot of things for a long time, but they had their moment, and he was ready to feel like a composed, adult jedi now, thank you very much, “we are grateful, master,” he finished and Yoda hummed appreciatively,

“If better you are feeling, many jedi eager to see you are,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan felt a small bubble of happiness, knowing that despite their unimaginable losses, there was still hope left and it lived in his brothers and sisters,

“I will wash…my face…then come,” Obi-Wan said, pausing frequently to ease the burning in his throat, limping across the room to gather a towel before turning for the fresher, “where…are they?”

“In the rec room, are they. Back of the ship, it is, past the mess, and the youngling’s playroom,” Yoda gathered his robes around him and made for the door, “and Obi-Wan?” he said, causing Obi-Wan to pause in the fresher room door and turn, “Proud of you, I am,” Yoda said, his eyes sad, but open in their affection,

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan said, a warmth suffusing his chest where before there had been only ice.

With that, Yoda turned and shuffled out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Obi-Wan winced as he limped over to the sink and leant over to splash water on his face.

Apparently, he had a wound in his left lower abdomen – the origin of which he still wasn’t sure – which he could feel stretching painfully with the contraction of his muscles. He splashed more warm water onto his face, staring at his reflection and grimacing at his fully shaved face and how young it made him look. They had obviously put him into the fresher when they brought him in, and changed him out of his stained and torn jedi robes, leaving him wearing a plain rather tight-fitting black t-shirt, and loose white exercise pants, sitting lower on his hips than he was comfortable with. He will have to go and find out where his robes were.

An order they may no longer be, but a jedi he will always be.

His hair was clean, and without a comb or gel it was falling into his eyes, giving him an even younger look. His eyes themselves were red, from exhaustion and crying, but there was nothing he could do about that, and frankly, if Quin said a single thing, he’d force push him out an airlock and be done with it. Of the skin visible above the neckline of the t-shirt, only a small fraction was its normal, healthy shade. Most of his face, particularly the right side of his forehead, where he had fallen when Anakin dropped him, and his neck, where the crushing weight of the force had nearly killed him, was a deep purple and black, bruised and ugly looking, no beard to hide any of it. Another line ran down the left side of his face, from the bottom of his eye down to his jaw, a cut he sustained from force knows where, and probably the reason they had shaved him, covered now with a transparent bacta patch.

 _Must have happened when I fell,_ Obi-Wan though grimly, running a finger over the thin line, which burned when he touched it.

Knowing he looked an absolute mess, Obi-Wan was eager to restore some semblance of his past comportment. Finding a comb sitting next to a new toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and shaving cream tube, he quickly ran the comb through his golden hair, trying to force it to sit in its customary neat parting. It didn’t quite sit flat, as his hair was a little bit wavy, but it would do for now.

Accepting that this was as presentable as he was going to get, Obi-Wan left the fresher, and made his way slowly to the door.

Between the battle with Grievous, the battle in the temple, and the manhandling Anakin gave him, he felt like a rattled bag of bones every time he moved, particularly in the joints of his left leg. They must have scanned him when they treated him, so he was grateful none of those rattling bones were broken, but still, _ow_. He also felt very off-balance, with the bond muted the way it was now. It was true that his headache, the nausea and the anxiety had left him, and he could actually reach out to the force with ease, but it was odd not feeling the bond, and very odd not to feel Anakin’s life force, which even with their separation, had always been present at the back of his mind, communicated within the training bond.

Resigning himself to this being the new normal, at least until they landed, Obi-Wan made it to the door, wondering if he could ask Bail for a stick to lean on without being laughed at, as sharp, burning pain shot through his left leg with every step, and his left hip ached fiercely. As if summoned by his thoughts, Bail appeared in the corridor, leaving his own room some doors up, looking grim and more worried than Obi-Wan had ever seen him,

“What’s happened?” Obi-Wan asked immediately and Bail’s face softened, shaking his head, as he reached out to lift Obi-Wan’s left arm over his own shoulder, his other arm coming around the back to grip Obi-Wan’s waist, taking the weight off the left leg and producing a grateful sigh of relief from the jedi,

“Nothing more. I just guess I’m really starting to feel it now, after watching that last holo broadcast,” he replied, walking slowly with the jedi back towards the mess hall, “Palpatine’s declared himself the emperor of the new Galactic Empire, and all Jedi traitors to the empire. The war is over, and separatist and republic forces have now fallen under the empire’s command. The people don’t really know what happened to the Jedi, Obi-Wan, all they know is that the Emperor ended the war and the temple has been destroyed,” Bail said, glancing sideways at his friend, as if worried the words might be too painful.

And they were, but Obi-Wan was emotionally drained, and tired of talking about it, “Well that…certainly escalated quickly,” he said instead, wincing as his throat ached,

“How are you though?’ Bail asked, changing the topic and looking over the Jedi with a critical eye, “We’ve got to get you another session with the dermal and deep tissue regenerator for your throat,” he added while Obi-Wan thought about how to answer the question of how he was, as they made their way into the mess and memories of two births and death hit him hard in the chest.

He simply breathed and walked, Bail’s warmth comforting next to him, silent for another moment before answering,

“I’m better for…your friendship, Bail,” he replied, managing a small smile and Bail chuckled,

“Even with your throat crushed, you’re a smooth talker, Obi-Wan,”

“Flirting with…me, already…Bail?” Obi-Wan quipped back, real amusement curling his lips upward this time, “Think of…poor Breha,” he added, panting from the effort of walking as Bail laughed this time, some of the tension slipping out of the room,”

How are the twins?” Obi-Wan added, deciding that after seeing the jedi, he was going to see them next,

They entered the corridor leading out of the mess, opposite to the sleeping quarters, this one a dark blue floor with light blue walls and many doors leading off it, as Bail answered, “very good, healthy and happy. Breha has them in our room,” Obi-Wan smiled in relief thinking of the two little ones, both of whom had different features of their parents and were now cemented quite firmly in his heart.

“That’s good,” Obi-Wan replied, and he meant it, “So where are the others?”

“The jedi are in the furthest room,” Bail said as they continued their measured pace, Obi-Wan absolutely hating how much he needed to rely on Bail but aware he had no choice, “sorry,” the senator added and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“You saved us,” he said simply, and Bail ducked, trying to hide his smile, never one to seek praise,

“You were worth saving,” he replied, looking straight ahead.

They paused then, at the next bend in the corridor, to give Obi-Wan a chance to catch his breath, just outside of a pair of open doors from which spilled laughter and light.

Inside, the jedi younglings were engaged with a service droid, who looked rather harassed as the little ones were playing force-tag, a game that involved a lot of misuse of the force, but Obi-Wan didn’t have it in him to stop them. Their giggles were a balm to his hurting heart, watching them run, force-trip each other and force-throw the soft furnishings about the room while the droid tried to regain some control of the situation.

“If this is what force children are like, I’m rather grateful we brought the droids,” Bail said, his voice amused, glancing between Obi-Wan and the younglings,

“Force Children?” the jedi asked with a laugh, and Bail shrugged, as Obi-Wan shook his head, “still human, still children, always misbehaving” he stated, indicating with a nod he was ready to continue. Bail manoeuvred them again, keeping a firm grip on Obi-Wan, and they continued, the laughter fading behind them as the doors shut, “it’s good that they do not understand what happened today,” Obi-Wan murmured, coughing at the end of the sentence but determined to use his voice,

“Yes, it is,” Bail agreed quietly,

“And where are the padawans?” Obi-Wan inquired as they continued down the corridor.

Older than the younglings, all the surviving padawans were still incredibly young, none older than fourteen, with most of them only just past their initiate trials and selected for training as a padawan. 

“With Master Kom, the Bothan,” Bail replied, “they’re through that door there,” he pointed to a door on the left and Obi-Wan felt a little more of the tension he carried leave his shoulders. He did not know the Bothan very well, but he knew that padawans loved his classes. Kom was one of the few masters whom Anakin had never complained about, always eager to attend lessons on cartography, navigation, and exploration. 

“The other jedi, masters Zobon, Cin, and Quinlan are in the rec room down here,” Bail said as they rounded the last corner and a door came into view at the end of the corridor.

Obi-Wan was trembling by this point, having to use every muscle group to keep moving thanks to his useless leg. He was grateful to see the door in front of them, and when it slid open, though the mood inside was sombre, there was a new note of elation as they spotted him, 

“Obi-Wan!” Quinlan called out, getting off his seat at the round table in the centre of the room and walking quickly to Obi-Wan’s side, enveloping him in a hug despite Bail’s protests. Obi-Wan returned it appreciatively if not a little stiffly, before Quinlan disengaged and took Bail’s place in assisting Obi-Wan, ignoring Bail’s cries to _be careful, Quin!_

There were calls of greeting from the other three masters, Master Kom with them as well. Obi-Wan smiled back and was grateful when he reached the chair and dropped into it, the soft leather a welcome relief from the burning of his many injuries. 

Obi-Wan examined the room around him. The recreation area was large, with a game station in the back-left hand corner, and a dojo in the right-hand corner, sealed in what looked like glass with its own ventilation, heating, and cooling. Around the room were scattered three large round tables like the one they were sitting at, capable of sitting eight, the underside of each table lit with strip lighting of different colours, giving the whole place a relaxed feel, with extra couches, soft bean bags and floor cushions spread throughout the room.

“Master Kom, I thought you were with the padawans,” Bail said, as he took a seat on Obi-Wan’s left and Quinlan returned to his seat opposite Obi-Wan and between Zobon and Kom, the latter nodding seriously in reply,

“I have set them to meditation. They are young, and less affected by today’s events, but Master Yoda left me with rather…peculiar instructions which I must follow,”

“Peculiar how?” Obi-Wan asked and the Bothan turned his gaze onto him, his moustache twitching,

“He suggested they search their emotions, examine the cause, and then write it down,” Kom replied, sounding affronted at the very thought of speaking about emotions. After the age of seven, most jedi initiates do not need any help controlling emotions and releasing to them to the force. Next to him, Master Cin Drallig, the human battlemaster of the jedi temple and a traditionalist, frowned,

“Write them down?” he asked, his Coruscant accent crisp and clipped, “whatever for?”

“I do not quite know. Master Yoda said he would take that class,” Kom replied and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, opening his mouth to reply, but Quinlan cut in before he could, as the old arguments resurfaced, even here, on a ship somewhere in space,

“Maybe because if we talked about our emotions rather than ignoring them, we could have saved countless jedi from falling,” the Kiffar master glared at Cin, being the exact opposite of what the battlemaster thought was a ‘good’ jedi, but all the more important as a voice in this conversation, Obi-Wan thought.

Cin huffed and raised his eyebrows in scepticism, “I don’t think you get to have a say in this one, Vos, with your past,” he replied haughtily, and Quinlan’s face darkened, the yellow tattoo across his nasal bridge and cheeks moving with his expression,

“Fighting amongst ourselves is not the way forward,” Master Zobon said then, preventing Quinlan from responding. The old Togruta had been the temple’s quartermaster, and Obi-Wan had received many a letter from him about his and Anakin’s ‘blatant misappropriation of temple property’ every single time they had to report a ship crashed, burnt, shot at or totally destroyed, “Obi-Wan is back with us, when we thought he was lost. Let us not ruin the joy of the moment,” he finished, reaching across the table to touch a finger to Obi-Wan’s forehead and then his own, in a ritual of welcome.

Obi-Wan smiled back at him, touched, though his eyes narrowed as he processed the words,

“You thought me lost?” he asked, and the sombre mood, only momentarily displaced by his arrival, returned to the room, the four other jedi and Bail falling quiet, Quinlan fidgeting in his seat. It was Bail who spoke first,

“Skywalker was brought in unconscious, and Master Yoda demanded a force supressing collar be put onto him. That was odd enough, but then you-you were in pretty bad shape when we picked you up, Obi-Wan,” he said, and across the table, Quinlan grunted, folding his arms across his chest as his handsome features darkened,

“Bail carried you in and you were bleeding everywhere to be more precise,” the Kiffar continued, his voice tinged with an emotion Obi-Wan couldn’t decipher, “You didn’t respond to us; you didn’t move for so long, we-we thought we might have already lost you. We got you into the med bay as soon as we could when we docked onto this ship, but…” Quinlan faded off and Obi-Wan understood.

If battle-hardened Quinlan had been worried, he must have looked like he was at death’s door. He strained to remember something after the shuttle pickup, but all he got was vague impressions of the inside of a shuttle and panicked voices,

“Well, I’m here now,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and Quinlan seemed to relax minutely.

There was a moment of silence amongst them, and a feeling of melancholy settled over the room as each was left to deal with their memories of the past day.

While the children could push forward and the masters would do their best to guide them, for the trained jedi it was very hard to accept or even comprehend the gravity of their current situation. In this room, and on this ship, Obi-Wan was very aware that they were the last living Jedi, and that they all knew it, having felt the death of their brothers and sisters in the force. Any who remained were force muted or blinded, and if they re-emerged, they would be hunted down – it was no way for a force a user to live. For most jedi, it was better to die and join the living force than be cut off permanently, hiding like rats.

Obi-Wan watched as Quinlan fiddled with his hair, fingers moving restlessly as their emotions muddled the force around them, and then he looked up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. He continued to hold eye contact as he seemed to steel himself, take a breath and say, “Genocide,” expressing in a single word what all of them were thinking of, what their minds kept drifting back to when not occupied with something else, the word itself jarring.

The tension in the room tightened around them, and Obi-Wan blinked and dropped his gaze to the table, doing his best to shield himself mentally from the pain around him, “I don’t say that to stir shit either,” Quinlan added and Obi-Wan looked back up, confused, but then quickly understanding as Quinlan’s gaze fell onto the man sitting to Obi-Wan's left, “if it weren’t for you, Bail, it would have been complete, and I realised just now that we never really thanked you for that. For saving us,” he continued.

Bail’s cheeks turned red under his beard at the attention. For a senator, he always had been shy and endearing humble, but that was one of the many reasons Obi-Wan had come to care about his friend despite his general distaste for politicians,

“Thank you,” Zobon intoned, a word echoed by every master around the table, finishing with Obi-Wan.

The doors slid open behind Obi-Wan and he turned to watch Yoda walk in, the grandmaster moving with some purpose as the doors closed behind him, “Yes, thank you we must,” Yoda said, probably having heard their conversation through the door. He walked up to the table and climbed onto the stool on Bail’s left, “saved the whole order you have. Repay you, we cannot,” Yoda finished but Bail was already shaking his head,

“I don’t want repayment. I want you all to stay safe. The galaxy needs you,” he replied, his tone sincere, and Obi-Wan again sent another prayer of thank you into the force,

“Speak we must about our dead,” Yoda said then, his voice frank and unyielding, and the mood in the room darkened further. It was difficult to think about it, but Obi-Wan focused on Yoda and the force signatures of the people around him.

They were alive, they were here, they could recover.

“Normally funeral we would have. Bodies we have not. Ceremony we will have when we land, after we commemorate Senator Amidala,” Yoda said, and a murmur of agreement passed around the table,

“But where are we going, Master? You have not told us,” asked Cin, leaning forward on the table. Obviously, this was question they had asked before, but had gotten no reply.

Yoda hmphed and pulled a black cylinder out of his pocket, “Wait for Obi-Wan I did,” he said, and from the cylinder he extracted –

“Paper?!” Obi-Wan asked, surprise colouring his words, as Yoda spread the honest-to-force paper scroll onto the table, gently weighing it down at the corners with the empty glasses on the table in front of him. It was yellow with age, and crumbling. It looked like a strong wind would utterly disintegrate it. There were similar murmurs around the circle as everyone leaned forward, and Quinlan got up and came to stand behind Obi-Wan to see it from a better angle, leaning on Obi-Wan’s left shoulder.

Even if this paper alone were not so unique that it was essentially priceless, Obi-Wan’s quick scan of the writing on it solidified that the museum on Coruscant would have given them the entire treasury for even a glance at this artifact. It was covered in runes that looked older than the republic itself, dark green ink and bright red ink in sharp contrast to each other, small runes in every corner, and a large drawing of a planet in the same bright red ink at the centre.

“Old, yes,” Yoda said simply, “Planet there is, outside the charted galaxy,” he continued, and now Obi-Wan was really interested.

Recently, a lot of his scholarly work had been primarily battle focused. Before the war, however, Obi-Wan had loved learning for learning’s sake. Anakin had teased him endlessly about his need to read every last fact about a planet before they made landfall. He replied saying it was his duty as a jedi to know everything. The truth of it was that he loved history, anthropology and past civilisations. He lived for their travels and missed that simple wonderment and exploration deeply.

Refocusing back on the paper in front of him –the combination of pain tabs, many days with no sleep, and extreme emotional exhaustion were starting to wear on his concentration – he studied the runes,

“Outside the galaxy?” Quinlan’s voice sounded by his left ear as he leant over’s Obi-Wan’s shoulder, intrigued, as were they all, “there’s no way to travel that far in a normal ship, we’d be dead before we ever made planetfall,”

“Unless there’s a new engine you discovered, Master?” Cin asked from the other side of the table,

“It’d have to be kriffing tiny to hide on a ship like this,” countered Quinlan, earning him a glare, as Obi-Wan tried not to get distracted from the present. It was hard though, when Quinlan reminded him so much of a young, impetuous Anakin, so free with his touch, his emotions and his words, which just in turn reminded him of the ever-present ache in his chest.

Yoda hmphed loudly to draw their attention back to him, “listen you will,” he demanded, “this planet, Razonai, in the galaxy is, _charted_ it is not. Hidden by the force it is. Pre-jedi light user colony on it existed, built temple they did,” Yoda pointed to the top right hand corner of the paper, which had a list of runes, “coordinates they did put here, but,” he pointed to the bottom right hand corner of the paper, “destroy all records of their planet they did, scared of being found they were,”

“How do we know they’re not still there?” Zobon asked, taking the words right out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. The last thing that they needed was to run into an ancient force-using race that was hostile to all new life.

Yoda hmphed again, but in a deflated tone, “Dead they are. Killed by the Sith they were,”

“If the Sith killed them, won’t the ugly old bastard calling himself emperor know where we’re going?” Quinlan asked and Obi-Wan turned back to Yoda, really wanting his own voice back, but pleased that Quin asked the question he was thinking,

“Question good that is,” Yoda said, looking pleased, “See here,” he pointed again to the bottom right hand side, where the runes changed colour from a deep green to a bright red, “Last survivor, killed last sith, wrote this with blood he did,”

Obi-Wan jerked back from the map and nearly knocked into Quinlan’s head, though the Kiffar dodged in time with a ‘Hey!’ of surprise. Obi-Wan apologised to him, but couldn’t repress the shudder as he extended his senses and realised that the odd feeling in the air was coming off this map – a feeling that they were all affected by given the sounds of realisation that went around the table.

An insidious darkness was creeping off the paper, gently inserting itself between their force signatures, isolating one from the other.

Bail simply looked confused, clearly unsure why all the jedi were acting like the map was suddenly poisonous.

“The…dark side, master?” Cin asked, now regarding Yoda with concern, and Bail made a noise of understanding,

“The force neither good nor bad is,” Yoda said, his tone indicating his irritation, “The last light force user his instructions imbued here he did. Bound the secrecy and the planet with his blood he did. Only seekers of light enter the planet can, using a dark ritual they accomplish this did” he banged his stick on the centre of the map, where the planet was drawn in the same bright red ink – blood – and the coordinates below it, “Here we will go. Here we will be safe.”

They absorbed this information, and Obi-Wan was struck with a sudden thought,

“Anakin,” he said looking at Yoda,

“Not a full Sith he is. Not fully corrupted he is. Safe with us he should be,” Yoda said, meeting Obi-Wan’s worried gaze. Obi-Wan nodded. There was nothing now but to trust the grandmaster. Obi-Wan could see that even if Anakin couldn’t enter the planet, they had very few choices. No doubt Palpatine was scouring the known galaxy for any trace of remaining jedi, and more particularly, the apprentice they had stolen from him. 

“How far are-” before Obi-Wan could finish his sentence, a splitting pain tore his head open, and he leaned forward with a gasp and a low groan.

Immediately, Bail and Quinlan had their hands on him, trying to understand what had caused it, as the other masters exclaimed in alarm, but he staggered to his feet and away from them – their hands burned where they touched him, he didn’t want them anywhere near him.

“No,” he moaned, as hatred surged through his soul – hatred that wasn’t his. It was quickly tempered by fondness, and a memory of Padmé flashed in front of his eyes, laughing in delight and bathed in sunshine, completely blinding him to the view of the rec room in front of him. Just as quickly, another memory, this one washed in longing, an image of himself, in his and Anakin’s apartments back at the temple, working on fixing a hole in his jedi robes as he sat on the balcony in the late evening sun.

As quickly as it had come, the visions disappeared and left Obi-Wan panting and trembling in the rec room, holding onto a chair, as Quinlan stood in front of him, his arms spread out as if to catch him. It took Obi-Wan a little while longer to realise that Master Yoda was talking to Cin, Kom and Zobon at the table which he could see over Quinlan’s shoulder, and ushering them out of the room. He also noted with increasing embarrassment, anger and irritation that Bail was standing a little behind him, also looking like he was ready to catch if need be,

“Obi?” Quinlan asked, noting that Obi-Wan’s eyes had refocused and Obi-Wan nodded,

“I’m here,” he rasped. Quinlan moved forward slowly, as if to stop Obi-Wan from spooking like a scared animal, and it chaffed at the human jedi,

“I’m not fragile,” he growled out, and Quinlan nodded, even as his hands gently went around Obi-Wan’s back, and guided Obi-Wan’s left arm over his own shoulders. The Kiffar didn’t say anything else, and Obi-Wan quietly accepted his help, feeling nauseous and weak, so kriffing weak, as he was led over to a couch near the dojo instead of back to the table.

Bail followed behind and Yoda joined them, allowing the three men to sit down before he started talking,

“Tell you will, what you saw,” he said and Obi-Wan almost told him to kriff off.

Now the pain had subsided, and the visions faded, he knew the origin of those emotions, and he knew whose eyes he had been looking through. They felt private.

Next to him, Quinlan shifted, “You know we care about you. You know I’d never judge a single thing you and Skywalker might share,” he said, his voice quiet, “I-I might even know something of what he’s going through,” he added, his voice quieter than Obi-Wan had ever heard it, a note of shame lacing the admission, for a past that Quinlan almost never spoke about.

It worked.

The lingering anger and resentment left Obi-Wan and he let himself relax forward, elbows resting on his knees as he closed his eyes. He felt foolish for even thinking his friends were prying, or trying to hurt him, and acknowledged that a lot of what he was feeling was not completely his.

“Anakin’s thoughts,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes still closed “he-he’s so full of hatred, but he’s also so full of goodness too. He was…thinking about Padmé. Thinking about me. They were just snippets from sometime in the past, good memories,” Obi-Wan coughed, and Bail got up and walked to the kitchenette, bringing back a glass filled with water. Obi-Wan thanked him as he took it and drank, the cool liquid heaven on his throat, “the bond is still muted though,” he added, taking another sip and Yoda nodded,

“In the brig, Skywalker is,” he said, “Force collar still on, an hour last I checked,”

“I checked about thirty mins ago and he was sitting in a corner, the collar was definitely still on,” Bail reassured them, 

“So how is he reaching out to Obi then?” Quinlan asked, concerned,

“Bonded they were, long after masters cut ties,” Yoda said and Obi-Wan refused to drop his gaze or let the old guilt surface, trying to move forward into their new order, as the grandmaster continued, “fully understand their link, I do not. Some things more powerful than our understanding, always there will be. Effect Obi-Wan how, I do not know. Observe you both, I shall,” Obi-Wan felt another twinge of frustration.

After the last few hours some answers would be nice.

Another spike of pain drove itself into his head then, and he moaned, his eyes falling shut again and head dropping forward. This time though, Quinlan’s cool hands were a welcome relief on his shoulder, then on his forehead as the Kiffar tried to gauge his temperature, and took the glass from his hand,

“Another?” Bail asked from Obi-Wan’s left as the jedi writhed in agony and groaned again, pictures flashing through his mind faster than he could comprehend, his grip on the present sliding with every new emotion Anakin was throwing at him.

There was a familiarity about the force around him, but the person also felt different, still Anakin, but tainted. He was standing in the desert, feeling too hot, blood on his hands, on the sand, and guilt screaming through his veins, equivalent to the anger, his mother’s mutilated corpse in front of him. Then he was standing in his and Anakin’s apartment, watching himself cook dinner, his own words drowned out by the rush of fondness from Anakin.

He felt his body falling backwards against the couch, and knew Quinlan was saying something, that Yoda was saying something, but he was losing the battle with Anakin, and was being drawn deeper and deeper into the other’s memories and feelings.

Watching himself get shot by ‘Rako Hardeen’, he knew he made an anguished sound out loud, as he experienced Anakin’s own pain, the sheer emptiness inside Anakin as he ran to the body that looked exactly like Obi-Wan. He nearly drowned as the anger and betrayal rose up, watching himself tell Anakin he was sorry, that it was necessary.

He felt a shift in the force, felt Padmé’s death in the force, and then there was an explosion of anger, grief and self-loathing, before nothing at all.

* * *

Quinlan Vos would like to think that he had seen a lot of the galaxy and was prepared for most situations. He had fallen to the dark side; his love had sacrificed herself for him. He had returned to the light, fought in a galactic war, and survived a genocide.

Somehow though, as Obi-Wan writhed next to him, yelled, called out for Padmé and then passed out, he didn’t feel equipped to handle this. Obi-Wan was a true friend, and an old one at that. He wasn’t ready to lose him too. Feeling the panic rise, he was glad that Master Yoda was there,

“Take him to his quarters you will, Quinlan,” Yoda commanded,

“To my quarters,” Bail corrected, “the twins are there. Maybe – I am not sure – maybe they can help?” he phrased the last as a question, deferring to the jedi to make the call, having very little understanding of what was happening to Obi-Wan,

“Help they might,” Yoda said, nodding, his hands folded over his walking stick.

Quinlan reached down and slid one hand under Obi-Wan’s knees, the other under his back. Moderately alarmed at how light the jedi was, he lifted him easily off the couch, Obi-Wan lying limp in his arms, his head coming to rest on Quinlan’s shoulder.

It was too like the moment Obi-Wan had been carried into the shuttle by a panicked Bail earlier that day, dripping blood onto the floor from a blaster wound that he had _somehow,_ in his usual fashion, clearly ignored totally, dried blood on his face and his once golden hair, a truly alarming sight.

Quinlan grimaced as he tried to dispel the similarities, walking behind Bail, with Master Yoda behind him, hoping not to run into anyone else on their way to the Organa’s quarters.

“He’s so light,” Quinlan commented as their booted feet echoed lightly in the corridor,

“He never eats,” Bail replied with frustration, “he ignores his own health almost as much as he chastises us all for not looking after ourselves well enough,”

Quinlan sighed in agreement and looked back down at the jedi he was carrying. Obi-Wan’s feet were bear, the skin pale in the blue lighting, and that, combined with the casual clothes and total lack of beard made him look so much younger and so much more vulnerable than Quinlan remembered, the cotton of his t-shirt and pants soft under the Kiffar’s calloused hands. They were the same age, or there about, but Obi-Wan had always had a baby-face. Quinlan liked to joke he only grew the beard so people would stop teasing him, but in reality, Obi-Wan commanded respect everywhere he went by the sheer power and control he projected, and his obvious competence at every task he set his mind to. He didn’t need a beard to prove that.

But it was also so wrong seeing him like this, and it saddened Quinlan. 

They hurried past the mess hall and into the black floored corridor of the bedroom wing. Bail’s quarters were at the very end, and Quinlan grunted as Obi-Wan suddenly moved in his arms, hitting the Kiffar directly in the chest with some force as he moved around,

“Damn, Obi, stay still,” Quinlan growled as the doors to Bail’s quarters opened with a quick entry of passwords. Inside, Breha looked up in alarm as Quinlan grunted again, struggling not to drop the suddenly restless jedi,

“On the lounge!” Bail said, and Quinlan only just managed to get Obi-Wan onto it before he let out a heart-rending cry, his breaths coming fast and jagged, and his eyes moving quickly under his closed lids,

“What happened?” Breha asked, hurrying over to them as Quinlan dropped to his knees next to Obi-Wan,

“He had a force-thing,” Bail responded behind Quinlan, and Breha made a concerned noise,

“What do we do?” she asked and as Quinlan reached out and lifted Obi-Wan’s head onto a pillow, and his friend jerked his head away from his touch restlessly, he wished he knew the answer,

“Wait, and see, we will,” Yoda replied, standing a little further back from the lounge.

“Bring the twins here,” Quinlan said then, standing up, looking around and spotting the crib next to the bed,

“What?” Breha asked, as he walked away from Obi-Wan and over to the twins. They were lying next to each other, under a light purple blanket.

For a moment, Quinlan forgot their troubles as he looked upon the pair, and Leia cooed and reached up a hand towards him, her eyes the same bright blue as her brother’s, but her cheeks chubbier,

“Hello,” Quinlan said, reaching down to scoop her up, grimacing as her fingers caught on his long hair and tugged, “ow,” he said to her, though he didn’t dislodge the hand as he turned back to the couch. Obi-Wan was still thrashing about restlessly, though as soon as Leia and Quinlan neared, his movements calmed. When Quinlan carefully laid Leia next to him, shielding her in case Obi-Wan moved violently, the human jedi simply seemed to deflate, his head turned towards Quinlan and the baby, lying flat on his back. Satisfied that Leia was having a positive effect, Quinlan laid her down next to Obi-Wan’s face, near the top of his chest, gently untangling her grip on his hair.

“Amazing,” Bail said, and Yoda hummed thoughtfully,

“Like it or not, a part of Skywalker is in his children,” Quinlan said, even as the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had heard the full story from Yoda, who had brought the security tapes from the temple back with him, and he knew that many jedi had fallen to Skywalker’s blade as he walked through the temple. Quinlan also knew the bruises around Obi-Wan’s face and neck weren’t there when they parted, and that Skywalker must have put them on him, but he tried not to focus on it as it only served to ignite anger within his mind, 

“And the children respond to Obi-Wan,” Breha said thoughtfully, “perhaps they are connected?” Yoda hummed again, taking a seat on the floor at the foot of the couch, as Breha walked back to the crib where Luke lay,

“Stay here we will,” Yoda said, and Bail nodded, as Breha came back with Luke and a blue blanket, and laid him on Obi-Wan’s now peaceful chest,

“Then I’m going to get us some food. Any particular orders?” Bail asked, as their eyes were drawn back to Leia who let out another cooing sound and hit Obi-Wan in the jaw with her roving hand.

Quinlan felt a smile spread across his face.

It really was an endearing sight, Leia lying next to the casually dressed human jedi, and Luke on his chest, staring up at all the adults with curiosity. It would have been worth capturing in a picture if the circumstances were better and Quinlan had a camera,

“Nothing in particular,” he said, turning away from Obi-Wan, coming to a decision, “but I think I’ll skip dinner for now. I need to have a little chat with our prisoner,”

“Skywalker? Is that wise?” Bail asked, and on the floor, his eyes closed, Yoda hummed again.

Sometimes, Quinlan wished the grandmaster would just speak if he had something to say, “Yes, Master Yoda?” Quinlan prompted instead. The grandmaster was silent for a beat longer, then he said,

“Yes, talk to him you go,”

Taking that as permission, Quinlan shrugged at Bail and held an arm out towards the door, indicating that Bail should lead on,

“Very well,” said Bail, recognising that the Kiffar would not be swayed from this. At the door, he pressed a button, and they waited for a moment as a service droid came rolling into view, “Yes sir?” it asked,

“Bring food for the people inside, and bring the medical droid for Master Kenobi, he requires some healing for his throat, chest, abdomen and legs,” Bail commanded. The droid nodded and rolled off at top speed,

“Useful little things, aren’t they?” Quinlan said, glancing behind them as Bail led him to the right, “and good thinking with the med droid,”

“It’s why we brought them onboard, and yes, best to heal Obi-Wan now, when he can’t run off” Bail replied, “and given that you’re a rather demanding bunch, its lucky we did bring the droids,” he added. Quinlan scoffed even as he smiled,

“Oh, you love us,” the Kiffar responded, but Bail only hummed in response as they descended the stairs.

Quinlan took in his surroundings with interest, having been too preoccupied with moving Obi-Wan safely from the shuttle to the sleeping quarters to notice any detail the first time through.

The lower floor was as different as night was to day when compared to the upper floor.

Where the passenger section of the ship was full of comfort, decoration and quality, the lower floor was entirely utilitarian. It was standard grey paint and exposed beams, bolts and metal work, lit in bright white light. The corridor they were in was filled with crates, leaving just enough room to walk through, and had multiple rooms and doors leading off it. The ceiling height was also a lot lower and it was several degrees colder. Their boots made much louder sounds as they walked on top of the metal grating, through which all the wires could be seen and accessed easily.

As they walked past the hangar and landing bay, Quinlan’s gaze landed on the shuttle, noting the blaster marks on the outside where they had been shot at during their escape, and the dent in the landing bay floor where the shuttle had smashed a landing, as Bail fought with the damaged controls. 

Continuing past, Quinlan was surprised as the corridor came to an end, with a large metal wall stretching from one end of the corridor to the other and up to the ceiling, made of what looked like durasteel alloy, with a large, round door in the centre.

“The brig?” Quinlan asked, “I just thought it was a room or something you detained Skywalker in. Why does a passenger cruiser have a proper brig?”

“Because I know what you jedi are like” Bail joked back, as he climbed into the small control room to the right of the door, typing in digits and pass codes, “this ship belonged to an ambassador once, and I knew it had place for securing dangerous people. Something told me I was going to need it when Padmé came to me with Obi-Wan’s warning, and then Yoda showed up only minutes after saying something about force visions. So I had this ship prepared and waiting for us in orbit as Yoda directed us to go to the temple to pick you all up,”

“Well we are grateful to that something,” Quinlan replied as Bail climbed back down, and handed him a small earpiece,

“Put that in,” the senator said, and Quinlan did so, placing it into his ear and hearing a beep,

“Did you hear a sound?” Bail asked,

“Yep,” Quinlan responded, fiddling with the ear piece until it sat comfortably,

“I won’t be able to hear what you say, and I don’t want to,” Bail said, putting another similar earpiece into his own ear, “But if things go wrong, or you need extra help, press it once, and I’ll be able to hear everything, press it twice and I’ll come in with some weapons.”

Moving so that he could climb back into the control room, Bail directed Quinlan’s attention to the screens in front of him, “I can see everything, and if I think there’s a problem, I’ll let you know,” he said.

Satisfied that this was as safe as anyone got when approaching a sith, Quinlan nodded,

“Okay,” the Kiffar said, “let me in,”

Bail nodded and keyed in the pass codes. A klaxon went off above the door, a red light flickering once as the door hissed and the seals were released, swinging out and to the left, exposing the cells inside.

It was bright, with four large cells, two on the right, two on the left. The back-left hand side cell where Skywalker sat was darkened as Quinlan walked in, the door closing behind him with what felt like an ominous thud.

Bracing himself mentally, he made his way forward.

The cells themselves were spacious, around five metres by seven metres. In the illuminated ones, Quinlan could see a large bed, a table with chair, and a fresher in the corner with toilet, blocked off with a privacy wall, that rose up to around a metre and a half high.

He kept his gaze fixed on the back cell, specifically on the shape sitting on the bed in the dark, unmoving. It was eerie, and sent his heart racing as he moved forward, even with every instinct telling him to move back, to get away. Finally, he was level with the figure, standing as far away from the bars as the narrow corridor between the cells would allow.

A glint from inside the cell told Quinlan that Skywalker’s eyes were open.

Quinlan approached the bars, then, deciding there was little point in dragging this out, taking care not to touch the bars though, seeing the silver glint on them that told him there was a force field active. His movement triggered the lights, and he was frozen in place as the yellow eyes pierced him, long hair and pale skin only serving to highlight their terrible glow.

Quinlan hadn’t known Skywalker all that well before the war, and during the war he only interacted with Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan had taken every opportunity to talk about his padawan, and all of the stories involved his daily activities with Anakin, sometimes his frustrations and worries, but mostly just happy stories about his life with Skywalker. The idiot boy had made Obi-Wan so happy. Quinlan felt anger simmering at the edge of his mind again when he thought about how much Skywalker had hurt Obi-Wan with his actions. Being as sensitive to impressions in the force as he was, Quinlan didn’t need Yoda or Obi-Wan to express it in words. The sorrow and loss hung around Obi-Wan like a cloud from the moment he had entered the rec room, and it only served to make Quinlan more protective.

The jedi and sith stared at each other through the prison bars, Skywalker’s stillness seeming very unnatural on him.

Finally, he spoke, “Quinlan Vos. Come to fall to the dark side again?” The words were icy, the tone cold, and Quinlan knew that Skywalker was trying to unsettle him,

“At least I didn’t fall like a little bitch,” Quinlan replied and even with the force collar he felt the darkness around Skywalker condense, a pall around them somehow dimming the bright lights, causing them to flicker. Capitalising, Quinlan continued, “I didn’t kneel to some old bastard who hid behind the senate. Count Dooku was a worthy adversary, and that’s probably why your new master got rid of him, with you as his pathetic replacement,”

Anakin moved to stand in front of the bars so quickly it was only years of training that stopped Quinlan from stepping back in surprise. Instead he held his ground as the sith bared his teeth at him, a feral sound leaving his throat, his black veins standing out in stark relief against his skin,

“I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to you,” Skywalker growled. Quinlan laughed in return,

“Never mind my heart. What happened to yours, Skywalker?” he replied, reaching out an arm and leaning against the shared wall of the cells, where the forcefield ended.

Standing this close, Quinlan was pleased that he had some height on Skywalker and watched the collar buzz a brighter blue as the sith tried to access the force. He was powerful, no doubt, Quinlan had never seen anyone fight a force collar, and he could feel the icy darkness just waiting, lurking in Skywalker, trying to reach out.

He remembered exactly what that power felt like, and was even more revulsed being so close to it,

“Don’t need a heart when I got power,” he replied finally, tilting his head to the side, assessing his opponent as he gained control of his anger,

“Your wife died,” Quinlan stated, watching the pale face in front of him. There was no reaction at all, he just stared back with those dead yellow eyes, “Obi-Wan is lying unconscious upstairs,” Quinlan added, stamping down on his own emotions the words brought to the surface to focus on Skywalker’s, trying to use his natural gift of psychometry to get a read on the sith’s mood. That last line seemed to have brought another stillness over the man, and Quinlan saw something flicker in his eyes, though it may well have been a trick of the light,

“What have you done to him?” Quinlan asked, “you’re hurting him. You have to stop,”

“Why?” Skywalker questioned and Quinlan blinked,

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t he hurt?” and now Skywalker’s voice was coloured with emotion; the hatred was expected, but there was something else in it too, “he deserves it,” the boy added, and Quinlan felt his own anger flare,

“That man deserve happiness. He never deserved to be saddled with an ungrateful little shit like you, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to suffer,” Quinlan spat back, and Skywalker _smirked_ at him, the little bastard,

“I always wondered what you felt for him,” he replied, causing disquiet to rise in Quinlan, less because of the accusation and more because of the amusement in his tone, “you were always around our apartments, always calling him to have a little chat. I shared his life and his home; do you wish you could have done the same?” Skywalker asked, making Quinlan scoff and roll his eyes,

“If you’re using petty taunts to get to me, Skywalker, then you need to up your game,” though even as he said it, Quinlan wondered about this rather odd turn.

Why would the fallen jedi bring up their past interactions? Thinking back to his own dark days under Count Dooku’s tutelage, Vos remembered that the negative emotions he felt as a jedi in turmoil are the ones the dark side seized upon. It was true that the dark can take your weakness and make it into your greatest power, but it was also true that it comes at a great cost – it was corrosive.

It ate away at your soul, powering you on the hate and the pain until you felt little else.

Quinlan shifted his weight and continued, “but if we’re on the topic, now you’ll never share anything with him again. You’ll never be welcome in his home.”

That wiped the smile off Skywalker’s face quickly, causing him to turn and walk the short distance to the other side of the cell. Before Quinlan could continue, a beep in his ear told him Bail wanted to talk. He reached up and turned the earpiece on,

“Whatever you’re doing, it’s hurting Obi-Wan,” Bail said, sounding concerned even through the tinny earpiece.

Quinlan frowned. So, whatever was happening to Obi-Wan _was_ related to Skywalker,

“Do you know when it got worse,” he asked, trying to keep his voice low, but fully aware that Skywalker was listening as the prisoner stalked closer, so that he was standing directly in front of the Kiffar again,

“A minute ago, Obi-Wan screamed again, convulsed like he was in pain, then fell silent, according to Breha,” Bail replied,

“That is…interesting. Okay, I’m coming out,” Quinlan replied, turning the earpiece off. He glanced up to see Skywalker’s eyes fixed on his, again noticing a flicker in his eyes and sure it wasn’t the lights this time,

“He’s getting worse?” Skywalker asked, his tone slightly different this time.

Quinlan considered responding with something harsh or ignoring him altogether as the door alarm sounded behind him, and the hiss preceded its opening. Instead he looked into the flickering eyes in front of him, the green now ringing the centre, and answered truthfully,

“Yes, he is,” before he turned and walked out, the hair on the back of his neck standing as he did but forcing himself not to turn around.

It wasn’t until the door was fully shut and the klaxon and lights faded that Quinlan breathed easily again. He handed the earpiece back to Bail, who threw it into a bag hanging just outside the control room,

“What do you think?” Bail asked and Quinlan sighed again, running a hand through his long hair, feeling more drained than before,

“The kid hasn’t fallen,” he said, with a grimace, “he’s a downright bastard, always was one if you ask me, but there’s something good left in him, and I think that it’s directly related to Obi-Wan,” Quinlan started walking back to the quarters and Bail fell in behind him,

“He was a good kid,” Bail stated, and Quinlan scoffed,

“Yeah if you listen to what Obi-Wan says. I fear in this one instance, Obi is completely biased. He cares for Skywalker, possibly more than anyone else in this galaxy, and he spoiled him, a little bit,” Quinlan laughed, and shook his head, “Obi-Wan is the master that every padawan in the temple wanted to have,”

“He is very kind,” Bail agreed, as they walked back through the crate stacks, and up the stairs. The heat of the upper corridors was a welcome relief for Quinlan, who had always preferred the warmth,

“He’s _too_ kind,” Quinlan emphasised as they approached the Organa’s quarters and Bail entered his code,

“I wouldn’t--” Bail’s sentence was cut off as two voices called out in terror and surprise, and the sudden cries of infants reached them from inside the Organa’s quarters.

The doors beeped their acceptance of his codes, and Bail and Quinlan were through so fast they almost got stuck in the still opening doors,

Obi-Wan was sitting up on the couch, taking in gulps of air, his hands gripping the cushions around him, and staring at nothing.

Breha was sitting on the armrest behind him, doing her best to calm the babies, whose crib had been moved next to Obi-Wan, as both were wailing, “They all started screaming!” she exclaimed, looking harried, her hair a mess, and her clothing crumpled. Moving to help his wife, Bail took Leia from her and bounced her in his arms, making shushing noises, as Breha tried to do the same to Luke.

Quinlan dropped in front of Obi-Wan, “Obi?” he asked, and was gratified when Obi-Wan focused on him,

“Anakin,” he muttered, and Quinlan felt a small sliver of irritation.

Is that the only thing Obi-Wan could think of?

Pushing his own feelings away, he nodded, “I was just with him,” he replied, and Obi-Wan shook his head frantically, attempting to climb to his feet. Quinlan was pleased to see that the bruises on his neck and face had been greatly reduced, no doubt by the med droid, but he still pushed Obi-Wan back,

“No, no, you’re not going anywhere,” he said and felt a wave of panic from his friend,

“Anakin, I have to go to him,” Obi-Wan insisted, his words oddly slurred, his eyes glassy, though they focused on Quinlan, “Please, Quin, please I got to see him,” Obi-Wan begged and the Kiffar wanted to say no, but he also couldn’t deny this new vulnerable version of Obi-Wan a damn thing so instead he cursed in Kiffu and reached down to help Obi-Wan to his feet,

“If you hurt yourself, I’m not helping,” he growled and was disturbed when he got no response, as Obi-Wan held his head in pain, and the babies got even more agitated, screaming where before they were crying,

“Gods, hush little one,” Bail said softly to a wailing Leia, who was going pink in the face, Luke just as distressed as his sister. Breha was attempting to placate him with a bottle, but he refused, and simply cried around it.

Quinlan watched with a growing sense of unease, "Where is Master Yoda?” he asked and Breha nodded in the direction of the cockpit,

“Obi-Wan and the babies were sleeping, he was meditating on the floor. Then he said he had to go to cockpit because we were nearing our destination,” she replied, sounding about as impressed as Quinlan felt.

Of all the damn times.

He and Obi-Wan shuffled to the door and Obi-Wan let out a sound of frustration, as the human jedi struggled to make his limbs respond,

“Carry me,” he bit out, irritation in his tone.

For a moment Quinlan wasn’t sure if he heard right.

“Quin, carry me, please, I have to get to Anakin now,” Obi-Wan said. Before Quinlan could react, Bail called out to them,

“Wait you need my key!” he hurried to the door, and Obi-Wan took the card with all the passcodes on it, and turned to Quinlan,

“Carry me, I can’t walk fast enough, please?” he begged, eyes still slightly unfocused as they looked past Quinlan, hands shaking and sweat beading on his forehead. Still not sure this was Obi-Wan Kenobi he was talking to, Quin decided piggyback would be the best mode of transport and turned around. Obi-Wan immediately wrapped his arms around the Kiffar’s neck, allowing himself to be picked up.

Still struggling with his disbelief and feeling a little put out that Obi-Wan had so far more or less ignored him – again, very unusual for him – Quinlan did as he was bid and hurried for the brig.

As they moved, he heard and felt Obi-Wan groan of pain, “ah my head,” the human muttered, his voice quiet, but right next to Quinlan’s ear,

“I wish I could help,” Quinlan replied, and Obi-Wan groaned,

“Get me to him,” he said instead, and Quinlan almost snapped back that he was trying, shut up, when he felt Obi-Wan’s body tense with pain and he snapped his mouth closed.

Finally, they arrived and Obi-Wan all but fell against the wall when Quinlan put him down, using it for support, as the Kiffar hurried into the control box and unlocked the brig without looking at any of the monitors. The klaxon sounded again, and the door opened as Quin picked Obi-Wan off the wall. He helped him with the step, and Obi-Wan broke away from him, limping to the back corner, Quinlan following close behind.

The scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrific, and for a moment it seemed that time stood still, with the three of them caught in it.

In front of the two jedi, Anakin was laying on the floor where Quinlan had left him, but now there was no colour in his face, his eyes were closed and a pool of blood lay around him, his wrists torn open.

Unbelieving, it was the wave of anguish from Obi-Wan that startled Quinlan out of his reverie.

Before he could do anything, however, the force around them moved, and Obi-Wan force pulled the bars of the prison, the massive surge of energy around him sending Quinlan stumbling backwards, the bars spraying them with dust and bits of cement as they came free. All hell broke loose around them, as alarms went off, and the lighting switched to the red emergency beams on the floor. Obi-Wan threw the bars to the side with an ear-splitting crash, and dropped to his knees, leaning over his former padawan and was shaking him, murmuring something Quinlan couldn’t hear as he regained his balance.

His higher cognitive functions finally kicked in, and, pushing past the initial fear and panic, Quinlan spun and ran outside, reaching for the intercom on the wall. Pressing the button, he spoke urgently, “Anyone who’s listening, we need a med droid in the brig right now. A med droid to the brig! Bail? Breha? Kom? Cin? Anyone?” he called, desperately hoping for an answer.

A few more seconds passed, agonising seconds as Obi-Wan’s voice grew louder and more desperate in the cell, calling Skywalker’s name,

“We’re on our way,” Bail’s voice responded, and Quinlan sighed in relief even as he tugged his own tunic off and ran back into the brig,

“Use this,” he said, handing it to Obi-Wan who immediately pressed it to the long and ugly tears on Skywalker’s left forearm and wrist, where the damage was the worst, and disturbingly, looked like it had been created with fingernails,

“He’s not breathing,” Obi-Wan said, looking up at Quinlan beseechingly, as if he had the power to change that. Quinlan felt his own heart clenching as Obi-Wan gasped and tears slid down his face,

“I can’t,” he held a hand against his own chest then, as if he had a new wound there, and Quinlan dropped down beside him, placing an arm on his back as the human jedi shook, his breaths coming too fast, “I can’t lose him too, Quin,” Obi-Wan cried, his eyes fixed on Skywalker,

“Obi,” Quinlan said, unable to find the right words,

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan leaned forward, over Anakin, his hands on his chest, “I can’t feel him,” he said, and then he reached forward and _bent the metal force collar_ and broke it, sending sparks flying, a shout of alarm torn out of Quinlan even as Obi-Wan cried in relief, “He’s there, he’s there!” laying his hand on Skywalker’s cheek, his bloody handprint standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin.

Quinlan could feel Obi-Wan’s panic growing next to him, even as the sound of droids and people running reached them,

“I won’t lose him,” Obi-Wan said, a sudden calm descending over him.

Realising what he was about to do, as the force bent around them once more and stole Quinlan’s breath with the raw power of it, Quinlan launched himself at Obi-Wan to stop him, but not before the human Jedi’s force and life signatures melded completely with Skywalker’s, a technique mostly forgotten and long forbidden.

It felt like an atomic blast had gone off between the three of them.

The raw force had been pulled into a vortex around them by Obi-Wan, _into Obi-Wan,_ sending pieces of furniture and broken cement crashing into the walls around them. Lying half on top of the human jedi who struggled to move closer towards Skywalker, Quinlan’s force signature was blasted with emotions, feelings, and senses that were not his own. He felt Obi-Wan pour his own life into Anakin, the pure goodness of it drowning the dark quite easily, the selfless act pushing aside the corrosive decay that was part of Anakin’s soul.

He felt Anakin’s tenuous hold on life strengthen and Obi-Wan’s weaken as the human gave what he could.

But it was too much.

This was madness, it was too much!

Forcing himself to move, as a wind howled around them, Quinlan reached out with his own force signature, and brutally destroyed the link between them. He felt both of them cry out, neither wishing to be separated, but he picked Obi-Wan up, half carrying and half dragging him out of the brig, tripping over the droids entering the doorway, the cement pieces, the metal bars - everything - desperate to get Obi-Wan out, lest he lose himself to Skywalker altogether.

In the corridor, still half carrying Obi-Wan, Quinlan lost his footing completely and turned so that they landed in a heap on the metal floor, with him acting as a cushion for Obi-Wan, both letting out pained noises as they fell onto the rattling grating beneath them.

The physical world came back to him then, and Bail’s shouted words became clearer, as he ordered the droids around inside the cell. Obi-Wan slid off the Kiffar and made as if to get up, but Quinlan’s hands shot out to grab his wrist and he moved, rolling on top of Obi-Wan, legs braced either side of his body and arms pressing down on his forearms, pinning him in place,

“ENOUGH!” Quinlan roared, adding some force to his voice so that Obi-Wan, who was still looking back at the brig door and struggling to move, was startled into stillness.

It was if he had been broken out of a trance. He froze under Quinlan, and blinked several times, finally seeming to take stock of where he was. He turned his head slowly, to meet Quinlan’s eyes, the Kiffar’s long dark hair falling forward and forming a curtain around them,

“Quin?” Obi-Wan croaked, sounding very confused, “What…what are you doing?” he asked, and Quinlan sighed in relief, rolling off Obi-Wan to lie next to him on the floor, his heart hammering and his hands shaking from the adrenaline as the fear drained out of him.

Obi-Wan groaned next to him, and Quinlan agreed,

“Yeah buddy, I know,”

As the corridor filled with even more noise as Masters Zobon and Cin entered, they were picked up off the floor, Obi-Wan so weak he had to be transported on a hover table, every bruise that had recently been healed somehow looking worse now, blood seeping out of all his bandages, his little undamaged skin pale as winter snow. Skywalker was taken out too, his wounds bandaged for now, secured to the hover table with durasteel force cuffs, and in this rather odd jumble, they made their way back up to the passenger floor.

Quinlan kept his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan even as they moved, pressing a hand over the blaster wound in his stomach, trying to stop the flow as they ascended the stairs.

How they made it to the med bay, Quinlan wasn’t actually sure, focused as he was on monitoring Obi-Wan’s force signature, making sure it wasn’t getting dimmer,

“Obi-Wan first,” Quinlan said, his tone dark and his eyes hard as he looked at Bail.

The senator didn’t argue, instructing the service droids to take Skywalker into the recovery bay as he asked the med-droid to follow them. They unloaded Obi-Wan off the stretcher and onto the operating table, Quinlan moving back to let the droid work. Not sparing a thought for the t-shirt, the med-droid cut straight through it, and Quinlan gaped at the spread of the blood on the bandages, reaching from Obi-Wan’s left hip all the way up to the centre of his chest, bright red and fresh.

The droid worked quickly, and Quinlan and Bail responded with alacrity to its requests for tools, as it took the bandages off, assessed the gaping wound, and got to work,

“It wasn’t this bad when we first picked him up!” Bail exclaimed, staring in horror at Obi-Wan’s mangled side, and Quinlan agreed. It was as if the wound had grown on its own. The bruises were now darker on Obi-Wan’s neck than they were even before the healing sessions, and the cut on the side of his head now extended down to this throat, leaking blood slowly.

He had never seen anything like this before, but he had a suspicion as to what caused it,

“He did something selfless and brave and stupid,” Quinlan said, unable to tear his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s face, looking so young and all the more fragile for it.

“What do you mean?” Bail asked, and Quinlan didn’t even know if he should say any more.

Modern as he was, there are some jedi traditions that should remain a secret. There were some parts of the order that were not meant to be shared with outsiders, even well-meaning ones. They wouldn’t understand the significance, the consequences of what Obi-Wan did. Yet, Quinlan could sense Bail’s confusion, and the part of Bail that cared for Obi-Wan. Perhaps he had a right to know,

“He…saved Skywalker,” Quinlan started, as the droid expertly finished the sutures, the wound looking much better as the cloth strips were applied on top before the bacta gel dressings covered the wound up, even as bruises deepened all over Obi-Wan’s abdomen, new bruises that definitely hadn’t been there before, “He gave his lifeforce to him, and now, he’s suffering the consequences. You cannot make life out of nothing. There must be a cost. There is always a cost,” Quinlan struggled to find a better way to explain it, and he glanced up at the senator, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable,

“Will he worsen?” Bail asked and Quinlan shrugged,

“I don’t know. This is…forbidden,” he replied, and Bail raised an eyebrow,

“Wasn’t marriage also forbidden?” he asked dryly and Quinlan momentarily regretted sharing with the senator. He didn’t understand. This wasn’t even on the same scale,

“No. It’s different,” he said shortly, hoping Bail would leave it at that.

As the med droid set itself to changing all the other dressings which had soaked through on Obi-Wan’s arms, the entire ship shuddered, and Quinlan looked at Bail in alarm,

“What was that?” the Kiffar asked and Bail shrugged,

“Dunno,” the senator replied as another tremor ran through the ship, “Yoda said we were approaching the planet. Maybe it’s something to do with that,”

Quinlan felt torn. He wanted to go to the cockpit and investigate but he also didn’t want to leave Obi-Wan alone. Some of it must have shown on his face, because Bail tilted his head in Obi-Wan's direction,

“I’ll stay with him,” he said, and Quinlan nodded gratefully. 

Making his way out of the medical bay, through the mess and hurriedly past the bedrooms, Quinlan hopped up the steps to the cockpit, and opened the door, walking through a narrow tunnel before it opened up into the bridge.

Yoda was in the pilot’s seat, a droid in the co-pilot’s seat and Quinlan’s paused momentarily, struck by the beauty of the view in front of them.

A large red planet sat in sharp contrast to the blackness of space, with green landmasses clearly visible. It was gigantic, and the more he focused, the more power he could feel coming off it,

“It’s stunning,” he breathed, as he walked closer to Yoda’s chair and the grandmaster hummed, fighting with the controls as the ship shuddered again,

“Unhappy with us it is,” he said, his tiny frame absolutely swallowed by the chair and control panels around him, but maintaining an excellent grip on the controls, “Landing safely a challenge will be,” Yoda added,

“I calculate if this turbulence continues, we have a 56.7% chance of entering atmosphere safely,” the droid said, sounding very unhappy with that outcome,

“Move,” Quinlan ordered, and the droid got up, allowing the Kiffar to take his place.

They hadn’t come this far to be bested by a force-damned planet and a passenger cruiser that didn’t want to land.

Flicking on the manual controls, Quinlan took over, immediately feeling the resistance, “Locked the coordinates in?” he asked, and Yoda nodded, as another alarm flared to the right,

“Shields at seventy percent,” the droid said from behind,

“Land quickly we must,” Yoda said, another shudder running through the ship, and continuing this time, shaking the large cruiser from bow to stern.

Reaching up, Quinlan activated the ‘emergency landing protocols’ switch, hearing the alarms going off behind them, hopefully prompting everyone aboard to grab the essentials and make for the hangar and the escape pods within. 

Razonai loomed large in front of them, taking up their whole viewport as they dived into its atmosphere. Determination settled around him as he and Yoda fought to control their descent.

They had come this kriffing far on luck, force shielding, skill, and the help of friends. They were not going to lose it all now.

Razonai was going to take them as they were, and they were going to survive.

* * *

**Oh my gosh, I was very nervous in posting this massive chapter because it was a difficult one to write, trying to manage the many characters and the fallout from their escape off Coruscant. A couple things:**

**\- I really hated how clinical and cold the birth scene was in ROTS (though that might have been the point), random people watching Padmé in what is normally a very private time, and a med droid instead of a midwife/nurse/doctor/HUMAN. I had to honour her and give her a proper send off. Also I'm a final year medical student, so I definitely drew from some of the births that I have helped and been a part of. It gets emotional ya'll. If you're wondering what she died from, it's a condition known as _Placenta Increta_ , where the placenta (the sac of blood vessels that give all the nutrients to the baby) gets stuck in the uterine wall, and usually causes massive blood loss, or post-partum haemorrhage. These days we know about it months ahead of the birth, and we treat it surgically, but a part of my head-canon is that this secret pregnancy meant that Padmé might not have received the appropriate prenatal care she deserved :( **

**\- I hope I addressed the emotions and the serious nature of what all the jedi are going through - it can't be easy to lose your entire people**

**\- I also hope that Anakin's actions become clearer in the next chapter, and I promise there is Anakin POV coming.**

**The next chapter is half done (this story literally WILL NOT get out of my head) and I will warn you all that the characters very much have their own personality, and that this short-ish story is probably not going to be so short after all as each of them demand my attention haha. I'll say it'll be another fortnight for an update in case life gets busy, but let's see :)**

**Thank you again for your support and wonderful comments, I was absolutely blown away at the response!! It means so much to me! Please let me know if you spot any mistakes/inaccuracies.**

**Love <3 **


	3. One for the Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New planets, old problems, and a little bit of good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued talk of suicide attempt/self harm.

**Chapter 3 – One for the Pain**

**I think I’ve always liked the trouble, just a hint of misery**

**‘Til the smile tastes of poison, and consumes the rest of me.**

**But the storm is over now, now the storm is over,**

**The sky is breaking open now, now the storm is over.**

**_\- One for the pain_ ** **,** **_Lifehouse_ **

The ship was shaking in earnest now as they descended through the atmosphere of Razonai, flames licking the viewport in front of them.

Quinlan was holding the secondary controller with a white-knuckle grip, his muscles straining, as behind him the droid reported with increasing alarm the degradation of their cruiser,

“Heat increasing to three thousand degrees!” it called, “Shields down to forty percent! Correct your course, masters!”

“This angle hold we must,” Yoda replied, sounding like his usual, unruffled self,

“Are you sure we can’t pull up?” Quinlan asked through gritted teeth as a crack appeared on the window in front of him, their entire viewport taken up with the dark green landmass, dotted here and there with snowy mountain ranges, long tracts of forest and red oceans on either side,

“This way go we must,” Yoda replied as Quinlan reached over the control board in front of them to manually readjust the thrusters and flaps as the ship attempted to tear itself out of their trajectory with a violent jerk upwards,

“One minute to planetfall!” the droid called, the heat inside the cockpit increasing, Quinlan sure that somewhere, something was on fire,

“Can we _survive_ this speed?” Quinlan asked then, as a wave of force energy rattled the ship, the planet doing its best to knock them off course, the force hostile around them,

“Temple here is, landing fine will be,” Yoda said, and Quinlan spared him a disbelieving glance as his own scepticism reared its head.

They _were_ slowing as Yoda reversed the engines, but the screaming sound of metal tearing somewhere behind them did nothing to calm Quinlan. He hoped every sentient onboard was in the hangar and inside the evacuation pods, because if they did land in a fiery ball, their only chance to avoid annihilation would be if they were ejected to safety.

The ground was coming up to them quickly now, Yoda finally pulling up on the main steering column, angling the ship upwards and flattening their descent. Below them were blue and green trees of various types, a forest that seemed vast as they sped over it, the ground getting rockier as they climbed in altitude.

“Impact imminent!” the droid called, and it was their only warning as they ascended the lower face of a mountain and then crested a plateau, leaving the bulk of the forest behind, rocks and trees scattering around them as they emerged low to the ground.

With a gentle tilt forward, a screech, and bone-rattling thud Yoda finally brought them crashing down onto the planet.

A huge building sat on the horizon at the other end of the plateau, emerging from the forest and the mountain as they bulldozed a path towards it with the ship, approaching with alarming speed.

Having not strapped himself in, Quinlan was thrown out of his seat and onto the control panel as the ship shuddered over the ground and continued to brake heavily. Yoda was left to control their speed and direction alone, as the Kiffar groaned in regret and tried not to move in case he hit the wrong button, the metal digging sharply into him.

This new, completely unwanted position gave him a terrifying front row seat to the new world around them, and the temple that Yoda had brought them to, as the ship shrieked, shook and demolished trees, their undercarriage destroyed, as they slid into the large shadow thrown by the building, slowing continually.

Quinlan held his breath as they finally came to a stop in a cloud of dust and smoke, not more than around 50 metres from a black opening in the temple’s edifice, visible through the trees – no doubt, the front door.

Going lax as he lay staring up at the large building, Quinlan let out a relieved laugh, rolling off the panel with his ears ringing in the aftermath, creaks, groans and squeals reaching them as the engines powered down. Yoda unclipped himself from the safety harness as Quinlan looked around for the droid, a slightly hysterical snort leaving him as he realised it was lying on the floor, possibly having crashed in fear.

Who programmed these things anyway?

“Thanks, I give, Master Vos,” Yoda said, re-arranging his robes around him as though bringing a passenger cruiser down to a skidding stop right in front of an ancient temple from a civilisation long lost was a regular occurrence,

“Just…following the force,” Quinlan replied, taking steadying breaths to calm his racing heart, as behind them they heard the fire suppression systems turn on, sending white smoke into the cockpit as it doused the flames,

“All are alive,” Yoda reassured him, his eyes closed as he reached out a hand. Quinlan once again marvelled at the sheer power the small master had at his command,

“Shall we go and check on them ourselves?” he asked, and Yoda nodded.

The force settled around them, pleasantly welcoming now rather than adamantly against their presence. With every step they took back into the main body of the ship Quinlan couldn’t help the small bubble of hope that embedded itself in his chest as his years of cynicism finally made way for a sliver of positivity – if the force somehow allowed them to survive that landing, maybe they had a chance at actually making a living out here.

* * *

As Obi-Wan regained consciousness and blinked in the dim lights around him, his first thought was that this was starting to become a worrying pattern. For the second time, he was waking up in an unfamiliar place, aching from head to foot, having no idea how he had gotten there, or how much time had passed.

The last thing he remembered was being in the recreation room with the other jedi and then…Obi-Wan focused on the fog in his mind, and got some misty impressions – Quinlan’s worry for him, being moved with gentle care. Then panic, then fear, then overwhelming happiness.

A strange mix of emotions.

Obi-Wan reached for the bond in the back of his mind out of habit and stopped abruptly.

Something was different – the bond was different.

Examining it cautiously, Obi-Wan was surprised at the sheer depth and power of it – if Obi-Wan extended his focus he could feel Anakin’s life-force, and knew instantly that the other was asleep, _and_ that he was lying on a bed not dissimilar to his own. Obi-Wan could even feel the softness of the sheets and the metal around Anakin’s wrists, cuffing him to the bed frame. Following the threads of the bond deeper, allowing himself to be drawn into Anakin’s force signature, Obi-Wan could also feel the ropes of darkness that surrounded it. Not separate from Anakin, they were familiar in a way, but also not the same Anakin he knew. These pieces of Anakin seemed wary of him. They moved when he tried to get a better view of them, turned to liquid when he tried to grab a hold of them. They sat like snakes, curled around the fallen jedi, watching him with a caustic gaze, and the longer Obi-Wan spent near it, the greater his need to run was.

The difficulty in that, however, was that immersing himself in Anakin’s force signature like this was also…euphoric. Being so near the blazing light of Anakin’s soul made him feel like he was walking on air…like he could stay here forever…and that was when Obi-Wan came to his senses and pulled away, back to his own mind, breathing hard at the aching loss that came with retreat.

 _What have I done?_ Obi-Wan pondered, as he threw up a mental shield to the bond, tamping down on the need to dive back in, to go and be with Anakin in a way that was most assuredly forbidden.

This was not a simple bond between minds.

This was a bond between souls.

Before he could dissect his new, rather large problem, Obi-Wan became aware of the presence next to him, sleeping upright in a metal hospital chair by his bed.

Quinlan looked well, his braided hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing his preferred brown under tunic, minus the white tabard and brown leather armour, his forearms partially covered in his signature black wrappings. He must have been tired, to drop off the way he did, or he had been sitting there a while, his head falling forward, chin resting on his chest.

Obi-Wan took stock of his new lodgings, reluctant guest though he was.

He was lying in a circular room, obviously a medical bay, with many empty beds on either side, and a central pillar that had the words ‘isolation chamber’ written across the top in bold red letters, the windows blacked out. Obi-Wan could sense Anakin nearby, very close in fact, which meant he was probably in that little room.

Feeling a twinge in his leg, Obi-Wan then took notice of his body, even as the tiredness he woke up with became more insistent. Bandages were on his torso, as before, but he also felt tender in a way that didn’t match up to his last memory. Attempting to move his left leg brought so much pain that Obi-Wan let out a quiet whine of discomfort, and it was enough to bring Quinlan around,

“Obi!” he exclaimed, immediately getting to his feet as Obi-Wan attempted to sit up, leaning forward and using his weight to keep Obi-Wan in place, “ah-ah, no, stay where you are,” he chastised, and Obi-Wan let out a huff, unable to fight even the light pressure that Quinlan used,

“I’m not a child and nothing is broken,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his irritation slipping away as only a bone-deep tiredness took its place, ceasing his struggling and blinking slowly as Quinlan met his statement with a very serious expression, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He radiated a warmth that made Obi-Wan want to move closer, feeling cold under the thin medical blankets, but the jedi managed to stop that rather unbecoming impulse,

“Actually, your femur and your tibia is broken,” Quinlan said, his tone lighter than his expression and the force around him suggested, as he reached out to a bowl with a wet cloth in it, and brought the cloth to Obi-Wan’s forehead, soothing a headache he hadn’t even noticed,

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, confused even as he accepted that Quinlan might be right, and oh, that cool cloth felt so wonderful,

“What do you remember?” the Kiffar asked, an odd note in his voice. Obi-Wan wished he was better able to decipher it,

“We were in the rec room,” he replied, “and then…Anakin reached out to me, and…I don’t know after that,” he finished, feeling deflated even as he said it, irritated as well, for the gaps in his own memory,

“So, you don’t remember what happened in the brig?” Quinlan asked, taking his hand off Obi-Wan’s forehead and extracting an unhappy and involuntary whine from the jedi,

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, wishing Quinlan would put his hand back where it had been,

“Right,” Quinlan said, “we’ve got a lot to talk about, Obi, but you should rest now,” and Obi-Wan nodded.

He _was_ very tired.

He slipped back into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next time Obi-Wan woke up, lying on his side, Quinlan was in a deep discussion with Yoda, the two of them surrounded by evidence of extended time spent by his bedside; cups, plates and datapads lying on the small metal table between them. The metal chair had been changed out for comfortable lounge chairs, and a blanket lay above Quinlan’s shoulders, hanging over the backrest. Quinlan himselff was wearing the same thing, but he looked more tired, bags under his eyes, the yellow tattoo across his cheeks the only colour on him. 

“Quin?” Obi-Wan croaked and the Kiffar was out of his seat and by Obi-Wan’s side before he could take another breath, stopping mid-sentence in his conversation with Yoda,

“Obi,” the relief was palpable around Quinlan’s signature, “how do you feel?"

“I…” Obi-Wan examined himself. Everything was still aching, but the pain was better. The bond was still loud in his head though, and he very much wanted to reach out for Anakin, awake, on the other side of it, wanted to dive into the fire of that alluring force signature, even with all the pain and suffering the same man had caused him. He resisted,

“Tired,” he replied instead, the admission seeming to relax the Kiffar,

“Understandable, that is,” Yoda said, coming around Quinlan to stand directly next to Obi-Wan, who wished very much to sit up, as was proper when addressing the grandmaster,

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, as Quinlan held out a glass of water with a straw in it.

Under normal circumstances, Obi-Wan knew he would have been terribly embarrassed to be nursed like this. As it was, his body feeling older and more worn that it ever had, he gratefully took the straw into his mouth and took a long drink,

“Later, we will talk,” Yoda said, patting him gently on the upper arm, “Report to me you will, Quinlan,” he added, as he gathered his stick and put on a waterproof coat which he had discarded on the back of the other chair,

“Yes,” Quinlan said, sparing his master a glance before he looked back at Obi-Wan, as though apprehensive the man might simply disappear,

“You look worried,” Obi-Wan said, with a smile in his voice, though the words were quieter than he had intended. It seemed conversation drained his energy too,

“No, I’m not worried. Obi-Wan Kenobi isn’t going to be defeated by simple _physical_ injuries,” Quinlan replied, putting the now empty glass away and sitting back on the bed, his hand warm as he laid it on Obi-Wan’s forearm, thumb rubbing gentle circles,

“Mmmhm,” Obi-Wan replied, his eyelids feeling heavy, “You were always the one who worried me,” he murmured as his eyes fell shut.

He felt the ghost of a touch on his brow as sleep dragged him under again, and Quinlan’s reply was lost to slumber.

* * *

Quinlan let out a long breath as Obi-Wan’s breathing evened out and his body relaxed.

Slowly, he lifted himself off the bed, and flopped into the chair next to it, his customary position for coming on five Razonai days, their length similar to the standard twenty-four-hour day they used on board the ship.

After their miraculous landing, he and Yoda had made their way out of the cockpit, and the Kiffar had been amazed to find the interior completely undamaged. Some unsecured furniture and items had been flung all over the place, and all the bedroom doors were open, with only emergency lighting pointing the way to the hangar. The rooms themselves had looked fine, and other than the fire in the cockpit, there were no other signs of internal damage.

Heading downstairs, he and Yoda entered the hangar to a wave of sound, Bail coming over to thump him on the back, the other jedi crowding around Yoda, looking for their next instructions, the children and padawans peering out of the escape pods with wide and scared eyes.

Quinlan had spared them only cursory greetings, hurrying over to where Breha was playing with the twins, both wide awake and fixated on the two red bantha toys she had in her hands. Next to her, at the entrance to the escape pods, the med-droids and C3PO were conversing about how very uncivilised all this was, and inside, lying on a stretcher placed on the floor, Obi-Wan lay, bandaged and pale, still as the grave.

It was a sight that still haunted Quinlan, sitting by Obi-Wan’s bedside these long days.

The sheer power Obi-Wan used to save Skywalker, the life-force he had sacrificed, had taken a massive toll on his body, Quinlan’s previous words proving true – you cannot make life out of nothing.

To give Skywalker life, Obi-Wan had very nearly sacrificed himself.

To those who cared about him, which was approximately all the sentients on the ship if Quinlan had to stop and count, it had been a harrowing couple of days. Obi-Wan danced between life and death, the bones in his leg breaking spontaneously four days ago, a rib and his collar bone shattering without influence the day after, the med droids responding with liberal regenerator use and pain medication, baffled.

An emergency jedi council – Quinlan very much enjoyed the look on Cin’s face when Master Yoda declared him a member of the new council – was called, held onboard the ship, as Yoda explained to them his plan. 

They would use the ship as a base, given that the temple was nowhere near habitable in its current state, the forest and mountain reclaiming what had been long abandoned. He confirmed that they were indeed being hidden by the planet, accepted as light force users, and it would be impossible for any sith to follow them here. Masters Cin, Kom and Zobon were to direct the younglings and the padawans in the clean-up and repairs, as well as their modified lessons, while Quinlan was to help Yoda with scouting the area for signs of life, safe water sources, building materials, and potential food options, though the ship could continue to sustain them for many more years even if they didn’t find anything.

The first three days still felt like an odd dream, as Quinlan recalled them, leaning back and closing his eyes, keeping one part of his mind on Obi-Wan’s life signature.

He and Yoda had entered the building using the force to scout for danger, and found that though all the soft furnishings had long since rotted away, the furniture itself had primarily been made of stone – tables, chairs, beds, benches – much of the previous occupant’s furniture had survived. The wooden parts of the structures were beyond salvage as expected, but the first floor and the ceiling structures were solid stone as well, hewn from the mountain itself, and steady as the rock it came from. Amazingly, the temple was also filled with light in the day, through a series of clever cuts and reflective surfaces made of metal that let in light without letting the elements in, located through every floor, bringing light even to the deepest parts of the building.

Once they had deemed the structure safe, Breha had followed them in and drawn up plans for the different rooms of the first floor, coming up with a workable solution for doors, windows and temperature control, as Razonai alternated between warm, temperate days and freezing cold nights.

Quinlan had then spent the rest of the time when not resting by Obi-Wan’s bed by helping the others with their settlement efforts.

With six padawans and eight younglings, each of the other three masters were assigned a group of five or six, a mix of ages. Once that was done, they split up and explored the five different levels of the temple in the large square building, looking for salvageable structures and any old artefacts, also working to create a map of the place and plan lodgings for them all, when they reached that stage. Quinlan had mostly worked with Bail and the droids to start building the doors and furniture as Breha instructed, returning to the path their landing had cut through the forest to pick up the trees that had been felled.

Opening his eyes to glance at Obi-Wan as a small sound escaped him, Quinlan had to suppress another surge of anger as he thought of the reason Obi-Wan lay here, in the med bay, instead of being out with them, building their new home.

Skywalker had been put into the isolation chamber that sat in the centre of the room after receiving treatment for the wounds on his arms. He had force cuffs on, as he drifted in and out of sleep, completely uninterested in the world around him. When he was lucid, none of the masters, Bail or Breha could get him to talk, the fallen jedi simply staring at the wall opposite him, his eyes alternating between yellow and blue, but never responding to any of their words. The glass on either side of the round room was turned from transparent to opaque and Quinlan was glad of it. 

The brig incident was one for the books, and Quinlan couldn’t stop himself hating Skywalker a little bit, hating him for his fall, and how no matter what side he was on, he always seemed to bring Obi-Wan down with him.

Yet Quinlan’s hatred was tempered by the memories of his own sojourn to the dark side, his own actions and vile deeds, knowing he had killed people he cared about, and remembering the painful climb back to the light while grieving the loss of Asajj, and his own honour.

It had been Obi-Wan who believed in him, Obi-Wan who came to rescue him, Obi-Wan who spoke at his trial against the foolishness of the council’s assassination mission. Obi-Wan forgave him, and welcomed him back into the order while most others looked upon him with disdain. So while a thousand questions were thrown out by the jedi masters, Quinlan knew that at least part of the reason as to why Obi-Wan had decided to do the unthinkable and save Skywalker the way he did was simply due to his innate goodness, and his gentle heart.

But not even Quinlan was sure what the fallout was going to be now, a question that seemed beyond any of them.

During the council meeting, no-one, not Kom with his endless knowledge, and not Yoda with his endless experience, could come up with an answer for the questions Obi-Wan had left them with.

What did a sith and a jedi do when they were bound by a life-bond?

For Quinlan knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Obi-Wan had bound himself irreversibly to Skywalker in that last ditch, desperate attempt to save him, and it opened a new link between the two of them, more powerful and more dangerous than any normal bond between minds. They had wondered if perhaps the purity of Obi-Wan’s soul could bring Skywalker to the light, but Yoda had shaken his head, saddened. All cases, few though they were, had led to the death of both parties involved. This level of bonding was frowned upon by sith and jedi both, because it consumed people’s minds, drove them mad with needing to be close to each other, and often resulted in complete neglect of their physical bodies.

Quinlan sighed deeply again, running a hand over his face, new cuts on his hands from hours spent in the workshop with Bail and Breha, carving new doors and window shutters.

He had been unable to go to his own quarters – quarters he was supposed to be sharing with Obi-Wan – and sleep in a real bed. He had sat here for so long that Breha had brought one of the leather chairs from the rec room for his comfort, and often brought Leia or Luke in, both the babies and Obi-Wan seeming to react very positively to being near each other, all seemingly unaffected by the fallen jedi locked in behind them, essentially in the same room.

Quinlan held onto the hope that the worst was past them, and that Obi-Wan would recover. He knew his old friend, and he knew the strength of the spirit within him. While others might have fallen to the lure of a life bond, of total and unrestricted access to another’s force presence, Quinlan was sure Obi-Wan wouldn’t.

As day cycled into another night, the fifth night since Obi-Wan had changed everything, again, Quinlan was also sure that he was no more ready to lose Obi-Wan than Obi-Wan was to lose Anakin.

* * *

Anakin fell back against the bed, his wrists rubbed raw from the handcuffs, his chest tight with emotion he couldn’t explain, as he gave up trying to leave the bed and get out of this room, breathing hard, his face red with exertion.

He knew Obi-Wan was nearby, right on the other side of the wall.

He knew Obi-Wan had been awake only moments ago, and a part of him wanted to go to him. Whether to smother Obi-Wan with his own pillow or fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness was yet to be decided.

Yet another part was terrified at the very thought of confronting the man whom Anakin had hurt the most.

The fallen jedi, unlike his former master, knew exactly what had happened over every minute of the last couple of days, and was fearful of sleep, scared to even rest his eyes, because every time he went under, he was reminded in excruciating detail of his own actions. 

He was reminded of kneeling to an old man, in a powerful office, the darkness surging through his veins in that terribly mockery of victory it produced.

He remembered maiming Mace Windu, the betrayal in his eyes and his screams and the _smell_ of burning flesh and clothes. He remembered the stone that dropped in his stomach as he realised what he had done.

He remembered the black fire in his soul that had driven him into the temple, leading an army to bring down the order that had done nothing but mock and humiliate him, letting his years of resentment turn into hate. He had every intention of killing every last jedi he met, doing what he must in the hope that his new master would save his wife – Padmé was all he had left.

Then Obi-Wan had come to him, bleeding, emotionally wrought, and not as dead as he had looked when Anakin stepped over him without a backward glance in the speeder bay. A dead Obi-Wan, at the time, had seemed like a blessing. The last emotional barrier to him embracing the darkness and saving Padmé once and for all.

A living Obi-Wan who was badly injured, who looked betrayed and unhappy, who knew exactly which button to press, whom he had nearly strangled to death as a result – that was not so easy to deal with.

There was crushing guilt that followed, and pain, as he remembered who he was, when in his last moments Obi-Wan had reached out and touched his mind again after so many years of silence with that bright, pure light, grounding him once more – and it was all still burning in his chest.

Burning, as Padmé's death was brought to him through his bond with Obi-Wan, feeling an emptiness grow in him that was quickly filled with hatred bred from the darkness. Burning, as he remembered his encounter with that idiot Vos, the concern that flared in the force around him as he spoke of Obi-Wan, his reminder than Anakin would never share anything with Obi-Wan again.

It had left him terrified; it had left him remorseful.

He had failed.

He had failed every single person he loved.

Anakin truly hadn’t known the answer to Vos’ question as to why his bond with Obi-Wan had suddenly opened so wide and became so uncontrollable. He didn’t understand why his inner turmoil hurt Obi-Wan, and though that deadened and corrupted part of him enjoyed it, revelling in another’s pain, most of him hated it, felt sick at the thought of it.

All he had wanted, in that cell, by himself after so many years of having someone at his side, was for it to end. Every decision he had ever made on his own had resulted in death and destruction.

Vos was right. Obi-Wan deserved happiness.

So even as the dark whispered to him that he could find a way out of this cell, could find a way to bring Padmé back, a way to _make_ Obi-Wan love him, Anakin knew he’d had enough.

He was alone now, and Obi-Wan would never forgive him.

He had torn at his own skin, the bond aching as the dark roared inside him with the agony, and he thought that would be it.

Then Obi-Wan’s signature had wrapped around his own, _blended_ with his, distinct and yet bound, his soul tethered now where previously it had been adrift on a sea of darkness.

Obi-Wan had brought him back, and Anakin hated him, and he didn’t.

His master’s light had pushed through the darkness, and made Anakin remember all that the dark so insidiously tried to make him forget.

Padmé loved him.

Padmé was dead, gone from this world, and he had sacrificed his soul for nothing – for a lie. The sith and the darkness had _lied_.

Obi-Wan was his master, would always be his master.

He had knelt before another and pledged himself to the monster – he was a traitor.

Obi-Wan loved him.

He had hurt Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan would die for him.

 _He_ had nearly killed Oi-Wan, _wanted_ to kill Obi-Wan, _enjoyed_ his master’s pain.

So now he sat, torn by grief, the dark still intwined within him, a sickness he could not expunge.

He did not know what he was supposed to do.

These past days, he felt Obi-Wan’s life signature moving between strong and weak, and knew that Vos was always near him, that Vos sat where he, Anakin should be sitting.

Jealousy ate at him, even as he knew he wasn’t worthy anymore. He had always felt inadequate next to Obi-Wan and now he _knew_ he was inadequate. 

He was broken.

The darkness whispered its promises.

Anakin turned away, and clung to the light emanating from their new, changed bond, even blocked as it was on Obi-Wan’s side, irrepressibly enticing in its simple goodness, the act of willingly giving a life to save another too bright and powerful to be touched by his own corruption.

He didn’t know what the future would bring, but Obi-Wan was in it, and it had to be better than this hell of his own making. 

* * *

“Hey Obi!” the quiet words in the dark woke Obi-Wan slowly, and he blinked blearily in the dim light. He had been sleeping that time, not unconscious, and given how much Quinlan had been keen on him staying in bed, the human jedi curled up a little tighter around his blankets and tried to go back to sleep,

“Obi,” Quinlan said again, his voice low and near, a hint of amusement in it, “you always were grumpy when woken. Come on, I have a surprise for you,” the Kiffar continued, and Obi-Wan opened one eye to glare at his friend,

“Tired,” he said, and he felt more than saw Quinlan’s fondness,

“I know, but you’re going to like this surprise. I even fixed your outer robe so you can be extra dramatic about it,” the Kiffar said, his tone coaxing as he pulled the blankets down, and Obi-Wan shivered in the cold air.

Reluctant still, but keen to please his friend, Obi-Wan allowed Quinlan to gently put him into his brown robe, and then more or less carry him out of the bed and into a hoverchair next to it, the soft padding of the chair comfortable, the headrest and arms very welcome, his limbs still heavy and uncooperative. Obi-Wan’s eyes fell closed as Quinlan gently covered him with a blanket still warm from his bed, and went around to push the chair from behind.

Obi-Wan felt himself drifting pleasantly, his bond with Anakin very quiet, as he, for the first time, acknowledged the force presence in the very air around him, a gentle hum of activity, just high enough to notice if you looked, but not enough to be irritating or distracting.

He was about to drift off again, trusting Quinlan completely, when a door hissed open and real air, _planetside air_ hit him.

His eyes snapping open, Obi-Wan let out a delighted sound at the view in front of him, the temple and the mountain reaching up into the sky and occupying his entire field of vision. They had obviously landed on Razonai, and he had missed it completely.

The massive square building in front of him resonated with the force, new doors and wooden window shutters on the ground floor clearly not original but oddly fitting for the ancient structure.

“How do you like it?” Quinlan asked, manoeuvring the chair out the ship’s door, letting it hiss closed behind them as he stepped over some of the debris surrounding the cruiser, their crash landing meaning that the main door was almost level with the ground without the need for a ramp.

“Is this the place Yoda was talking of?” Obi-Wan asked, wishing that he could go and walk it himself, “Razonai?”

“Yeah, and it’s every bit as old and rundown as you’d expect,” the Kiffar chuckled, continuing to push the chair out, further away from the cruiser. Obi-Wan glanced to the side, taking in the hull of the ship, hidden in the dark shadows of dawn, lying perpendicular to the temple. He was surprised at the state of it, as it towered above them, looking at the black burns, missing pieces of hull and metal littered all around it,

“Bit of a rough landing?” Obi-Wan asked, and Quinlan chuckled,

“You could say that,”

Quinlan slowly turned the chair around then, away from the temple and the mountain, and Obi-Wan was struck at the beauty of the stunning array of colours painting the sky above them, stretching out past the ship and its trail of destruction – a sunrise with the most vivid hues Obi-Wan had ever seen. Every wavelength of the visible spectrum shimmered above the planet, an odd bird cutting across the glimmering sky, their haunting cries only adding to the magic,

“We hadn’t been getting up early on the first couple of days, but I did yesterday and just…” Quinlan faded off, but Obi-Wan agreed. There weren’t words to describe this.

Quinlan continued to push Obi-Wan on the path that the ship had carved out, now flattened and easy to walk on, heading away from the temple. They continued in silence, Obi-Wan basking in the life around them, taking in the forests that grew on either side of their landing strip, the large fronds of sub-tropical ferns, and the tall thin trees which reached for the dazzling sky above.

Finally, after passing the ship, Quinlan turned them slightly off the road, following a much narrower path that looked less well defined, darker due to the canopy above them. Branches brushed past them gently, the texture of some of the leaves feeling like velvet as Obi-Wan raised a hand to keep it off his face.

After only a minute, the path widened to a large clearing, with a stunning view of valley below them, a river cutting its way through the forest far below them. Here, they were close to the edge of the plateau, the edges falling sharply away where the land dipped steeply into the valley. The horizon could be seen many hundreds of kilometres in front of them, another mountain range rising up into the sky, breaking up the colours with its distant, jagged, and dark silhouette.

Quinlan stopped the chair and dropped to sit on a stump that looked recently cut, the smell of fresh earth and clean air a welcome change,

“Worth getting up a little early for?” he asked, extracting a bottle of juice, two glasses and some sandwiches from the pockets of the chair.

For a moment, Obi-Wan watched him in wonder.

The Kiffar looked other-worldly, sitting there surrounded by a forest on this ancient, force-imbued world. His dark hair once again back in a ponytail, every chiselled feature of his face caught the brightening light as he poured them both a glass, his brown tunic secured by a leather utility belt and highlighting his well-built frame, 

“Meiloorun Juice,” Quinlan said, handing him a glass, “as I remember, you and I stole a box of these, doped them with Polanis Red, and gave them to that asshole Melric,” Obi-Wan laughed even though it made him hurt in about ten different places,

“No, no,” he chuckled, “ _You_ stole the box, doped them and handed them over, and I got chased down with you because I happened to be in the vicinity, and you bring nothing but trouble,” Obi-Wan replied, taking a sip of the sweet juice and savouring the taste, as Quinlan laughed in response.

Around them the world was waking up, and strange calls echoed through the forests.

Obi-Wan was pleased to see Quinlan had his lightsabre at his belt, but wished he himself were less of a liability,

“How are you feeling, Obi?” Quinlan asked then, and Obi-Wan turned his gaze back onto the Kiffar, who was leaning back on one hand, the glass in his other and regarding him, his face bathed in the red-orange light of a rising sun,

“I’m…I’m better,” Obi-Wan replied, taking a moment to think, “Anakin is asleep, and most of my pain is, well, not gone, but I feel awake in a way I didn’t on the ship,” he replied,

“Yes, which is why I snuck you out,” Quinlan said with a smirk, taking another sip. Obi-Wan laughed again, and then groaned, raising a hand to prevent Quinlan from hurrying over and ruining the relaxed mood,

“Breha is a sight to behold when angry,” he replied when the pain receded, picking up the sandwich in front of him. Though he had not felt hunger in a long time, he heard his stomach growl looking at the plain jam and cheese sandwich,

“Can’t be worse than Qui-Gon when we both nearly drowned when we were kids, that time on Ragoon six,” Quinlan retorted and Obi-Wan nodded as he chewed, hating that he already felt very tired from this simple outing,

“So, I still have a question or two,” he said, taking another bite, “how did you end up with Bail and Yoda?” Quinlan laughed then, shifting into a more comfortable position before answering,

“A whole heap of luck and a lot of the force,” he finished his drink and continued, “we managed to get out of the temple, and got ambushed by a clone patrol, just on the southern side. We thought we were done for when lo and behold, a small shuttle uncloaks behind us, guns down the clones before they can call for reinforcements, and Yoda flips out like he had this entire thing planned. We climbed onboard happily. Yoda had a tracker on him, said he needed to retrieve things from the temple, and that he was going to find you.” Quinlan reached up to tighten his ponytail, loose strands of his long hair blowing in the light breeze that rustled the leaves around them, “We sat tight in the shuttle, cloaked, as they dropped bombs from above, razing the temple to the ground,” he paused then, the memory darkening his features before he went on, “then Padmé went into labour, Yoda gave us the signal and next thing we knew, Skywalker was in chains and you were bleeding all over the place,” Quinlan finished and Obi-Wan felt anxiety rise in him at the thought of losing his friend,

“I’m glad he found you,” the human jedi said aloud and Quinlan smiled, tearing off chunks of his sandwich, staring out at the open sky and forest below them,

“So am I. While you’ve been healing, Yoda more or less guided us to this planet here, and though Razonai didn’t want us to enter, once we actually landed it’s been pretty friendly,” the Kiffar said, looking back at Obi-Wan, who in turn met his gaze, nodding,

“There’s still something you’re not telling me, and there’s gaps in my memory,” Obi-Wan said, though now the tiredness was starting to weigh on him, the gentle warmth of the sun and the light coolness of the air doing wonders to relax him,

“There is,” Quinlan agreed, “but I think you might have figured it out already,” he added, looking at Obi-Wan shrewdly. The human tilted his head to the side in response,

“The bond?” he asked, and Quinlan nodded, some of his humour leaving him,

“You…” he faded off, staring out at the sky in front of them, “Skywalker tried to kill himself,” he said, his tone free of emotion, but Obi-Wan knew he was upset, even as his own fear rose to the surface, the thought of losing Anakin making him cold despite the sun,

“What?” he asked, thinking back, a feeling of dread and heartbreaking loss coming back to him, the feel of cold skin under his hands, “I think…I remember feeling panicked,” Obi-Wan said, looking at Quinlan even as the Kiffar refused to meet his gaze,

“That’s one word for it,” he muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich, swallowing, then continuing, “you tore him outta the jail, tore the force collar off of him, and then…then you used your lifeforce to save him,”

Obi-Wan stared at the Kiffar, the words at once wrong, due to how very, very forbidden that was, but also very fitting, as Obi-Wan reached back for the bond, careful to keep his side blocked, and once more examined the sheer size of it, the power he could feel behind, and the enticing lure – it’s siren call to dive back in.

As soon as he had noticed the bond, he knew that he had done something outside the bounds of what constituted as appropriate use of the force. Looking at it now, though, knowing that Anakin was alive because of it, he couldn’t find a reason to agree with all the old rules. The bond didn’t feel wrong, it didn’t feel like it was going to drive him mad. It felt like Anakin, just amplified a little. He had always felt attracted to the old bond. This wasn’t so different.

Quinlan was looking at him now, worry in his gaze, “Yoda said people go mad, get addicted to the bond,” and Obi-Wan swallowed nervously,

“Yeah I’ve read that too,” he said, looking down at the glass in his hands, “but…yes, it’s…it’s strong,” Obi-Wan tried to find the right words, wanting Quinlan to understand, “it calls to me, but at the same time…it’s not so different from our previous bond in a way,” he said, and Quinlan’s expression shifted slightly,

“You mean you don’t want to drown yourself in it?” Quinlan asked, and Obi-Wan nodded,

“Yes. Exactly. It’s there, and it’s…force it’s so powerful, Quin. But, it’s not like the texts described. It’s not overwhelming. It just…is,” Obi-Wan frowned, feeling like he wasn’t explaining it very well, but Quinlan nodded,

“Right…I just don’t want to ever lose you like that again,” he said, looking at the ground at Obi-Wan’s feet, “I can’t go through that again, Obi-Wan. You can’t just go around creating life out of nothing, and you’re too valuable to be throwing your life away like that,” he said, his voice quieter, and Obi-Wan’s chest felt warm and tight,

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he had caused his friend great worry, and Quinlan met his gaze, his dark eyes reflecting the glimmering sky above,

“Good,” he replied, a note of finality in his voice, the force settling around them, “Now, I’d love to keep talking, and I’m sure Yoda _will_ want to keep taking about this with you, but from the way you keep blinking I’d say you’re getting tired again,” the Kiffar changed the subject, and Obi-Wan was glad, as Quinlan dusted off his hands and took the glass away from Obi-Wan, draining what remained, “how do you feel about going back to a real bed?”

“Depends on how much extra a night it is,” Obi-Wan quipped, happy that his friend wasn’t upset with him, now taking note of how heavy his eyelids felt as Quinlan turned the hoverchair around and they started to make their way back through the trees,

“Well, we’re sharing quarters so let’s say this is on me,” Quinlan replied and Obi-Wan chuckled, his eyes falling closed as the sleepiness spread and pressed down on his chest, “yeah it’s a little tight on space,” he continued, “I don’t know how we have enough beds, but the padawans are in one dormitory, the younglings in another with the care droid, Bail and Breha have the master suite, Master Yoda has the other suite across from them, Cin, Kom and Zobon are all in one room and you are I are in the other,”

Obi-Wan let the words wash over him, the deep voice a familiar sound, the gentle wind welcoming on his face, “It’s alright, but you do snore a lot so I guess my sleep might be a bit disturbed tonight,” Quinlan added. Obi-Wan was too tired to do much other than huff in protest.

The ride back was quick, the hiss of the ship doors the only unnatural sound in the now very loud morning refrain as the native creatures woke up to a new day. It was silenced as they entered the ship and the doors closed, returning them to the crisp recycled air and quiet hum of machinery.

He must have dropped off then, because the next thing he knew, Quinlan was lifting him into a bed, the same bed he woke up in all those days ago, and covering him with a blanket,

“Quin?” Obi-Wan murmured, and the Kiffar paused as Obi-Wan opened his eyes, a question on his features, “I’m thankful to have you,” Obi-Wan said, the words stiff in his mouth, a lifetime of never admitting anything that even sounded like attachment making his tongue uncharacteristically unyielding.

Slowly, the Kiffar dropped down to face level with Obi-Wan, and reached out a hand to lay on top of his,

“I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t made it, I don’t have anyone else left,” he admitted, as sleep threatened Obi-Wan again,

“You’d survive,” Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes falling closed fully, sleep pulling him under, as Quinlan’s words washed over him,

“Surviving is not living, Obi-Wan.”

* * *

In the med bay, trolleys were slammed against walls with resounding crashes, and beds dragged across the floor, leaving the med droids very confused, as Anakin, still locked inside the isolation chamber, seethed with unfettered rage, the lights flickering around him in synchronisation with his turmoil.

When Obi-Wan had been wakened, so too had the fallen jedi, and he watched through the bond in mounting anger and jealousy, sometimes through Obi-Wan’s eyes, sometimes through his feelings, as the jedi enjoyed a morning meal with that force-cursed, bantha-fucker Quinlan Vos.

The darkness surged within him, forcefully bringing him back again and again to the most rage-inducing moments as Obi-Wan peacefully slumbered.

Vos’ hands on Obi-Wan, producing feelings of safety and comfort. Vos’ laughter, bringing happiness to Obi-Wan. Vos himself, in Obi-Wan’s eyes looking like a bronze statue of the old gods of Tatooine in the morning light, Obi-Wan’s fondness for the man wrapped around the golden vision.

Anakin hated Quinlan Vos more than anything else in the world.

He hated, even as he felt a modicum of relief, that Obi-Wan was being looked after, that his physical pain was receding, and that he was not alone. Obi-Wan was yet to bring down his mental shields, no communication through the bond possible at the moment, and Anakin wished he could reach out to the jedi, basking, as he has been these past days, in the white light that shone around the blockade, Anakin’s side of the bond wide open and their connection too powerful now to be cut off fully.

He did not know what he would say if Obi-Wan did open the bond again. He dreaded the day as much as he longed for it, alone in his own mind, fighting off a poison that he had willingly ingested.

As the jealously simmered down to a low undercurrent rather than a raging boil, Anakin once again reminded himself that he had no right.

No right to be jealous, no right to want to crush Vos where the pathetic jedi stood.

 _Unworthy,_ the darkness hissed, trying to block Obi-Wan’s light, to pull him back into the pit of despair that led him here.

He turned away from it, focusing on the bond, the peace that existed on the other side as Obi-Wan slept on unaware, somewhere else now, somewhere more comfortable than the med bay.

It would hurt Obi-Wan if he killed Quinlan, Anakin thought, even if the Kiffar deserved it. 

Now he knew the guilt that came with hurting Obi-Wan, now he knew how wrong he had been, even though he wanted to maim Quinlan in every way possible, he would never raise so much as a finger against the man, with it having a high likelihood of hurting Obi-Wan too.

Through Obi-Wan’s eyes he had seen the damage he had wrought on his former master.He knew in precise, nauseating detail where the bruises started on his body, marked by Anakin’s hands in a brutal act of violence, and remembered the euphoric rush that had come as he held Obi-Wan against the wall, the darkness singing in his veins.

He wished he had died instead, putting them all out of their misery.

 _If the bond were open, and Obi-Wan was willing to talk, maybe that’s what he would say,_ the corruption hissed, trying to tighten its hold over him.

Anakin felt himself slip deeper into the darkness, the anguish at that thought too painful to bear so close to Obi-Wan’s light, yet so far from the absolution he sought.

Force, was there to be no relief to this endless torture?

* * *

A thud and raised voices were the first things Obi-Wan registered, woken from a deep and dreamless sleep, warm in his bed, blinking at the sun streaming in through the viewport.

The door to his room swished open behind him, and he turned around slowly in bed, tangled in the sheets, to be bumped lightly in the face by a bundle of pink blankets, big blue eyes, and hands reaching for his face.

Levering himself up to sit against the headboard, Obi-Wan picked Leia out of the air with a, “Hello, little one,” and brought her to rest in the crook of his right arm, using the other to get himself into a more comfortable position as she settled in happily,

More yelling and running steps sounded down the corridor and a very harassed looking Breha appeared, closely followed by Quinlan, who looked more amused than he probably should have,

“She can fly!” Breha exclaimed half in irritation and half in amazement, letting out a huff as she walked into Obi-Wan’s room and dropped, gracelessly, onto the couch, satisfied that Leia was safe.

Obi-Wan laughed softly, rocking Leia as the baby tugged on his shirt, her fists grasping whatever she could. Quinlan walked in behind Breha and sat on the other side of the bed, shimmying across it to come closer to Obi-Wan and make faces at Leia, who watched him with wide eyes,

“Usually, yes. Children with force abilities can manifest them through a range of strange behaviours including floating themselves around the room,” Obi-Wan replied, a frustrated groan leaving Breha,

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled into the arm which she had thrown over her face, lying flat on her back,

“It’s not her fault she’s so powerful,” Quinlan said, reaching out to tickle Leia’s toes and receiving pleased sounds from the baby,

“I wasn’t ready for this,” Breha moaned, though Obi-Wan knew she did not mean it, hearing her love for the bundle of trouble in his arms in her voice.

“No one is ready for the force, no,” Obi-Wan agreed, lightly tapping Leia on the nose and momentarily distracting her from Quinlan, 

“She’s going to be the best jedi,” Quinlan said, his braids brushing Obi-Wan’s face as he leant in, and drawing a sneeze from the master that quickly turned into a groan of pain,

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Quinlan said, all laughter gone from his expression, and Obi-Wan shook his head, waving Quinlan away and breathing through the burning in his abdomen,

“You can’t apologise for my sneezing,” he ground out, as the sharpness dulled and he could breathe easier, and Quinlan relaxed, pleased that he hadn’t done any damage,

“Fine, but I want to hold her,”

“I’ve been unconscious for days, and she came to me, so, no,” Obi-Wan replied, bouncing her lightly, studying her features. She had a smile just like Padmé’s, but her eyes were all Anakin, and frankly, so was the attitude if the amount of trouble she was causing was anything to go by,

In his peripheral vision, he saw Breha sit up on the couch to look at them, having caught her breath, and then gave her his full attention as she giggled, sounding more like a teenager than a grown woman, “Aww look at the two of you,” she crooned, covering her mouth as more laughter threatened to spill out of her.

Obi-Wan glanced at Quinlan in confusion even as the Kiffar, in a very rare display of shame (of which Obi-Wan was convinced he did not have even a shred) actually blushed and moved away from the human jedi, getting to his feet,

“Shut up,” he mumbled, tightening his ponytail, and decidedly not looking at Obi-Wan.

Still confused, the human shrugged and turned back to Leia,

“So why did you come to me, little one?” he asked her, as though expecting a response. Leia simply waved her chubby arms around, dressed in a white singlet and blue pants that suspiciously looked to be the same colour and texture as the blue blankets,

“Because Bail had the _audacity_ to pick up and play with Luke, and I momentarily _dared_ to turn my attention away from her,” Breha said, “they’ve both been extremely restless, waking us up at night, crying through the morning. We are tired,” she said, and Obi-Wan studied her properly this time.

She wasn’t lying.

Her eyes were slightly red, her hair looked completely uncared for, and there were bags so dark around her eyes she looked like she might keel over any minute,

“Why don’t you leave them with us for a little while then?” Obi-Wan asked, glancing at Quinlan, “you both need rest and I’ve done nothing _but_ rest recently,” he said,

“True, and he’s in no shape to help with building and restoration, even with all the healing sessions he’s been getting” Quinlan added, causing Obi-Wan to send a glare his way, though it was mostly true. Things still did not feel quite repaired.

“Well,” Breha said, and Obi-Wan thought she was going to decline, but an almost sly smile spread across her face, a glint in her eye as she glanced between the two of them, “okay,” she said, getting to her feet with sudden energy, and Obi-Wan suddenly had a rather bad feeling about this, “I’ll get Luke and all their stuff!” and with that she was out the door before Obi-Wan could change his mind.

“That was odd,” Quinlan said, coming back to sit on the bed, this time at Obi-Wan’s feet,

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed even as Leia yawned and seemed to snuggle a little deeper into her blanket that she had come to him with,

“Do you want some lunch?” Quinlan asked, and Obi-Wan was surprised to find that he did have an appetite,

“Actually, yes,” he responded.

Quinlan smiled, and instead of heading for the mess as Obi-Wan expected, he wandered over to the kitchenette. Obi-Wan blinked at his back, “you cook?” he asked,

“Cook is a strong word. I saw they had some nice Alderaan noodles in here, and feel like something unhealthy,” he replied, rummaging through the cupboards.

Obi-Wan watched him as he rustled up a quick lunch, and Breha returned, carrying a bag full of what looked like baby things, Bail following with Luke and a pair of droids carrying the crib,

“Where do you want this?” Bail asked,

“The baby or the crib?” Obi-Wan replied, drawing a hearty laugh out of his friend, “put the crib on that side,” he added, pointing to the other side of the bed, nearest to the door, where there was the most space. The droid set it down, as another efficiently unpacked towels cut into size to make nappies, as well as bottles, pacifiers, and a slew of simple baby clothes made from the materials they had available, in various shades of white, blue and pink and purple.

Bail lay Luke on the bed next to Obi-Wan to help make the bed in the crib, and Obi-Wan, whose arm had gone quite numb holding Leia for so long, happily surrendered the baby to Breha as she came over, if only to get some feeling back,

“Yeah, they’re heavier than you imagine at first,” Bail said, smiling down at Leia as Breha put her into the crib. Luke made a displeased sound, and Bail picked him back up, placing him next to his sister,

“We’ve almost got a little animal mobile going, to hang above the crib,” Breha said, “maybe it’ll distract them from their flying, though, to be fair, Luke mostly just uses the force to bring his bottle to himself,” Obi-Wan smiled as he eased himself out of bed, pleased to find that his legs were responding, if not a little shaky,

“Should you be getting out of bed?” Bail asked, coming around to support him,

“I can’t just sit there all day,” Obi-Wan replied, and Bail hummed in reluctant agreement.

They made it to the dining table, just as Quinlan finished the food, “All done!” he called,

“What you eating?’ Breha asked, looking up from the bag of baby things,

“Alderaan noodles,” Quinlan replied, and Bail scoffed,

“ _Those_ are not Alderaan noodles,” he said, peering into the bowl placed in front of Obi-Wan,

“Given that we’re on a planet in the middle of nowhere, hunted by the new galactic empire, I think I’ll take what I can get,” Quinlan snapped back, Bail raising his hands in surrender, 

“Want to join us?” Obi-Wan asked, picking up a fork and looking up at the senator,

“We just ate. I promised Master Cin I would help him with a bookshelf they found on the second floor,” Bail replied, sounding like he already regretted it,

“And I have the padawans this afternoon for a forest foraging session,” Breha said,

“You _are_ all keeping busy,” Obi-Wan replied, stirring the noodles, the scent from the bowl smelling right, but the colour not quite the correct shade of green,

“Well we have to,” Bail answered, walking to the door with his wife, “See you soon!” he called as they both left, linking an arm with hers as the door closed behind them.

Picking up the noodles on his fork, Obi-Wan took a bite, and hummed in satisfaction,

“Good?” Quinlan asked, already more than halfway through his bowl,

“Very good,” Obi-Wan replied.

They spent the rest of their lunch chatting aimlessly, Quinlan filling Obi-Wan in on the details of construction and restoration, a feeling of contentment settling over Obi-Wan once again.

As the afternoon progressed, however, he noticed that Quinlan was getting more fidgety, and kept glancing at him every couple of minutes. He was standing over the crib when it happened for the fifth time, and he sighed,

“What is it Quin?” he said, and the Kiffar seemed to struggle with himself,

“You’re feeling better?” he asked, edgy, and Obi-Wan nodded, wondering what was making the Kiffar nervous,

“Then…we thought, given that you’re better…” Quinlan paused again, glancing out the viewport before looking back at the other jedi, “today would be a good time to the perform funeral rites. For Padmé,” he finished and Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to the twins as the emotional pain he had not really fully addressed came back, dulled somewhat by time and present company, but still raw,

“Yes,” he agreed quietly, looking at the sleeping twins, “your mother deserves a proper send off,” he said to them, his voice quiet. He felt Quinlan move to stand next to him, and didn’t move away as an arm went around his shoulders, his gaze still fixed on the little ones.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, Obi-Wan attended to by the med-droid for another regenerator session, then falling asleep as the post-healing haze hit, while Quinlan busied himself with a data pad and feeding the twins.

Yoda stopped by as they were dressing, the red giant star that gave light to Razonai sitting low on the horizon outside.

Obi-Wan pulled on his white – now a lot closer to grey – tunic over his new black undershirt and old beige pants with some difficulty, his abdomen twinging uncomfortably with the movement, even as Quinlan frowned but didn’t say anything, adjusting the white tabard of his own outfit, secured by the thick brown belt he preferred. Obi-Wan then picked up his own white tabard, broader and brighter than Quinlan’s, and secured it with the white sash around his waist, pleased with the quality of repair work. Satisfied, he clipped his own leather belt on over the sash, tightening it to secure the tunic and folds of the tabard, looking up to Master Yoda and feeling more like himself,

“Ready you both are?” Yoda asked,

“Nearly,” Quinlan replied, helping Obi-Wan into his brown robe, the material worn and comforting, the whole outfit a familiar weight over him, an extra layer of shielding to protect him from the emotion hanging in the air around them. Quinlan then lifted his leather armour off the dining table and over his own head, adjusting the shoulder pad on his right shoulder, and held out Obi-Wan’s lightsabre.

Feeling some trepidation, Obi-Wan took it, pleased when it felt as comfortable as it always did, and attached it to his belt as Quinlan did the same, his hair now down, the thick braided locks hiding his face as he bent down to pull his boots on.

Once Obi-Wan had his own boots on, finally feeling as if he was back in control of himself, they nodded to Yoda, indicating he should lead them to the door,

“Look after the babies,” Obi-Wan said to the service droid that had followed Yoda in and it nodded, as the three jedi made their way out.

Finally recovered enough to walk on his own, they still walked somewhat slower than usual through the corridors, for which Obi-Wan was glad, and they did so without talking, leaving the ship and heading down a path that led away from the cruiser and the divot carved out by its landing, and followed a path that led them parallel to the left wall of the temple.

The air was cool, and the forest around them and below them in the valley was alive with sounds as the light faded, throwing shades of pink and orange on the clouds above. As they walked, high above them in the air currents, birds swooped and danced, the lifeforce of the planet alive and almost tangible. They continued heading down the path, in the opposite direction to where Quinlan had taken him this morning, the leaf litter crunching underfoot.

Moving along the wall of the temple, they then diverged onto another path that took them to the north, climbing uphill slightly until the trees thinned and opened onto a flat, rocky piece of land. This edge of the plateau also presented them with phenomenal views of the valley below, the setting sun throwing everything into fiery relief, the shadow of the temple behind them just reaching the edge of their gathering.

Obi-Wan was greeted quietly by the other jedi masters, who were standing as part of a circle around two pyres, one of which bore Padmé’s body, the other holding around ten lightsabres, none of which were familiar to Obi-Wan.

Bail, Breha, the padawans and the children formed the rest of the circle, and Obi-Wan took his place, in between Quinlan and Yoda in the gap left for them.

A moment of total quiet passed, as sadness and loss settled over them, each faced with this, a formal acknowledgement of their losses.

Yoda stepped forward then, after a few more minutes passed, in his hand an old-fashioned wooden torch,

“Many years fought we have,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying easily around the circle, “Many good jedi lost we have. Too many,” Obi-Wan felt his eyes burning and this time he didn’t look away, letting the tears fall, wiping them away with a sleeve as around him their shared loss coalesced,

“Civilians in the crossfire caught were. Innocents died have. Senator Padme Amidala amongst them. Too good she was,” he said, turning to Obi-Wan, “speak of Padmé, will you Obi-Wan?’ Obi-Wan nodded, stepping forward even as he didn’t know what he was going to say, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention,

“Padmé…” he started, thinking of the woman whom he had been lucky to call a friend. The warrior who boldly went on rescue missions and covert operations. The queen, who had loved her people, and cared for them. The wife, who had died too soon, who had loved her children even for the short time she had known them, “Padmé Amidala was a lot of things. She was a politician, a leader, and a fighter. I think, however, that I will remember her as a good friend,” his voice cracked on the last word, but he kept going, “she was brilliant, in both intelligence and actions. She was _good_ , as Master Yoda said, too good to be taken from us,” he swallowed, “I-I will miss her,” he finished, stepping back into the circle.

Quinlan’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder, grounding him in the present, as the wind picked up slightly, blowing across Padme’s dress and making her look ethereal in the fading light, her body so perfectly preserved she might have simply been resting.

Next to him, Yoda lit the torch, and handed it to him. Walking forward, Obi-Wan looked at Padmé one last time, and sent a promise to her and the force,

_I will honour you, and watch over the children, as you asked. I will not give up fighting for Anakin._

And then he lit the pyre, walking backwards as the wood caught alight, embers flicking off into the darkening sky, drawing his eyes upwards as Quinlan’s hand came up to rest on his back.

Yoda took the torch from him, and they continued to stand in silence, a near perfect circle around the body as it was engulfed in flames, the light blinding them.

It was as if a knot had been loosened in his chest, one that he had been carrying for most of the afternoon, since Quinlan had brought the funeral to his notice.

This was not what he wanted at all, but it was easier to deal with the grief somehow, knowing it was shared.

As the fire burned, Cin stepped forward this time, raising his voice to be heard over the crackling of wood and twigs, “as we commit Padmé Amidala to the force, so to do we give our brothers and sisters away. You all lived as a jedi, and you all died as jedi. May we remember your sacrifices. May we honour your memory by our actions. Though you have passed from this physical life, we pray that you have found peace, and rest and have gone to the force from which you came. May the force be with you always,”

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan replied with the others, their quietly murmured words spoken into the darkness of the twilight.

Yoda walked forward then, to the pyre with the lightsabres, which, now Obi-Wan thought about it, must have belonged to the jedi who fell on Coruscant, Yoda having picked them up as he hurried through the temple on that fateful day – a terrible duty to have endured on his own.

Yoda lowered the torch to the kindling at the base, the pyre standing taller than him, and the wood was devoured hungrily by the flames, another knot in Obi-Wan’s chest loosening as he let himself drift in the force, wishing peace on the jedi who had passed on, hoping their suffering was over, taking comfort in their return to the living force. 

How long they stood there, Obi-Wan would never be sure.

His limbs were stiff and aching by the time the last of the flames died out, grey smoke infusing their clothes and the air around them with the smell of the oils used on the wood, rich scents that took him back to the upper city of Coruscant, and long days spent in the room of a thousand fountains meditating and relaxing, safe, at home.

Obi-Wan knew he had tear tracks down his cheeks, but they were hidden in the encroaching night, and he no longer felt shame. They needed to grieve, here, together, so they could move on and build a brighter future for the children in their care. They needed to know that they were not alone.

Kom was the first to move as smoke was carried off in the wind, to take the children and padawans back to the ship, maintaining a respectful silence, though some of the youngest had become quite restless. Bail and Breha left next, followed by Cin, Zobon and then Yoda.

Quinlan stayed by his side, and Obi-Wan was grateful, so grateful for the Kiffar’s solid presence.

His left leg now aching fiercely, Obi-Wan turned away from the pyre finally, as true night settled around them, stars appearing in the sky above, the temperature dropping quickly. He leaned on Quinlan as they made their way back, the sombre mood following them into their cabin, where a hot meal was waiting for them, and the service droid was watching over the infants.

Some of the ache in his chest subsided as Obi-Wan dismissed the droid and leant over the crib, Luke and Leia sleeping peacefully next to each other, untouched by the loss around them.

“Eat something,” Quinlan said from behind, his voice suddenly loud in the quiet, and Obi-Wan turned away to look at him,

“Yes,” he replied, walking to the kitchenette and taking a seat opposite him at the small table.

There were a few more minutes of silence, only the sound of their cutlery on ceramic filling the cabin.

Obi-Wan felt Quinlan’s gaze on him and looked up, meeting his eyes, “What?” Obi-Wan asked,

“Nothing,” he replied, looking back at his now mostly empty plate, “I’m just glad we’re alive,” he said, one of his braids falling over his shoulder as he picked up the slice of Meiloorun fruit on his plate.

Obi-Wan smiled then, “I am too,” he said, reaching across the table to lay a hand on Quinlan’s elbow, who looked up and smiled back.

They finished their food, and Quinlan showered first as Obi-Wan checked to make sure the babies were clean and ensure he knew where the milk and bottles were for the night-time feeds.

He showered after Quinlan, enjoying the hot water as much as it made his few exposed cuts sting, water itself a luxury not had on any of the military ships he had flown in the past couple of years.

Looking at himself in the mirror as he stepped out, towel around his shoulders and his hair once again falling into his eyes, Obi-Wan was pleased to see that things were getting better.

The bruises on his torso and neck were now a sickly yellow, and though still ugly, they didn’t hurt as much. The wound in his abdomen was now fully healed too, and the scratches and cuts on his arms had sealed over and left no scar thanks to the bacta. There were new red marks over his clavicle and fourth rib, where the droid had informed him they had burnt the skin with the regenerator due to the severity of the breaks, but the bones were healing well. His left leg was now almost back to normal, except for the few twinges of pain and the burn marks on both the upper and lower leg.

He still hated how young he looked, but with the cut on the left of his face mostly healed, the scarring would be minimal, and he should be able to grow the beard back, though the droid insisted on shaving him every day now to maintain hygiene and the adhesion of the bacta strips.

Finishing up, dressed in the loose pants and black t-shirt that seemed to come standard with the ship, Obi-Wan walked back out, his heart warming as he saw Quinlan holding Luke, extracting giggles and squeals out of him as he used the force to make the light dance above them,

“You’re supposed to be putting him to sleep,” Obi-Wan said, walking over to the chair where he had discarded his tunic, pants, tabard and belt, and picking them up to hang in the closet,

“I’m wearing them both out so _we_ can get some sleep tonight,” Quinlan replied, tone offended,

“Oh right,” Obi-Wan said, “I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he added, limping the rest of the way to bed as his left leg twinged,

“Still painful?” Quinlan asked, putting Luke back into his crib with a kiss to his head, Leia apparently satisfied already,

“Only minimally, the droid said I can start exercise tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said, shuffling down so that he was lying on his back, watching as the Kiffar walked across to the closet and hung his own outer robes and armour up, dressed in the same loose exercise clothes as Obi-Wan, but with the colours reversed. Finishing up, he walked back to the bed, sliding under the covers as Obi-Wan reached up to turn the lights off.

It was a moment before his eyes adjusted, but the starlight was bright outside the viewport, and the dark shapes of the room came back into view. Obi-Wan felt a wave of contentment come off Quinlan, as the Kiffar moved further under the covers and turned on his side, facing Obi-Wan,

“Goodnight, Obi,” he said warmly. Obi-Wan felt the exertion of the day hit him too,

“Goodnight, Quin,” he replied, letting his eyes fall closed as the warmth from the Kiffar and the blankets gently lulled him to sleep. 

* * *

It felt like only minutes later that a loud cry woke him, followed by another cry, and Obi-Wan was sitting up blearily as Quinlan moved next to him,

“No, I got it,” Obi-Wan muttered, knowing that Quinlan had been run ragged while he had convalesced. He really must have been tired, because he acquiesced immediately, as Obi-Wan reached up to turn the lights onto their lowest setting, and the Kiffar buried himself further in the pillows and the blankets.

Walking around the bed to the crib while making shushing noises, Obi-Wan picked up Luke, who appeared to be the culprit, and bounced him gently as Leia watched, awake but not in the mood to cause trouble it seemed. Luke settled quickly, a quiet falling on the cabin as Leia closed her eyes in the crib, Obi-Wan reaching out with his other hand to rub her tummy gently, unsure if this was the way to calm infants, but pleased when it seemed to work.

That was the exact moment when he also realised his bond was no longer blocked and that between the emotional exhaustion of the funeral and the middle of the night wakening, he had dropped his shields.

Anakin was there, Anakin was very much awake, and Obi-Wan felt fear running through him.

There was a moment of total stillness, Obi-Wan frozen to the spot. He fully expected Anakin’s force signature to rush into his mind, and was terrified for the child in his hands, not wanting to lose control of his body.

Gently, he laid Luke back down, and leant against the crib, closing his eyes.

Anakin’s presence was its usual golden self, blinding in its sheer power.

But the rush of emotions never came.

Taking a moment to assess the situation, Obi-Wan cautiously approached the bond. There was a darkness that lurked in the golden light, creating a void where it lay, but it wasn’t reaching over to him. Anakin felt… _scared_ , as if he was fearful of coming near the bond,

Realising with some relief that he wasn’t going to experience excruciating pain and another episode of blacking out and waking up somewhere new, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and loosened his grip on the crib, pleased to see that the little ones had fallen back to sleep.

_They’re mine, aren’t they?_

The voice was so achingly familiar, Obi-Wan felt his chest constrict. That was Anakin.

 _Yes._ He replied, looking at them both, hope rising in him as he felt the amazement from Anakin, and an undercurrent of affection,

 _I didn’t know we were having twins,_ he said, and Obi-Wan had to sit down, or his knees were going to give out. Making his way quietly back to his side of the bed, he lowered himself onto the still warm blankets, leaning against the headrest and closing his eyes.

 _Neither did I,_ he replied, feeling sorrow bleed across the bond as Anakin recalled Padmé, an image of her in her white outfit, smiling over her shoulder and glowing against a desert backdrop, Obi-Wan watching through Anakin’s eyes.

There was silence for a while longer, Obi-Wan feeling the racing emotions running through Anakin, and, for a nice change, not thoroughly overwhelmed by it.

The fallen jedi was clearly in pain.

He had guilt aplenty. Self-loathing was there too, and Obi-Was was pleased to see that the darkness, while present, wasn’t controlling his mind, and didn’t shroud his entire signature the way it did back on Coruscant, that foul sense of death and decay gone. 

_Master,_ _I…_ Anakin said then, a desperate note to his voice, and Obi-Wan wanted to slam the bond shut again, his own hurt rearing it's head, his own anger and betrayal making its way to the forefront once more as Anakin uttered a title that brought so many memories with it.

Anakin had hurt him so much, and so unexpectedly.

But…it was hard to hold it against him when Obi-Wan had a front row seat to the self-flagellation that his former padawan was putting himself through. Not when he could see true repentance, true horror and remorse, wrapped up in the volatile signature in front of him.

 _You have a new master now._ Obi-Wan replied, though it was lacking any heat.

It still hit Anakin like it had been shot out of a canon, as his force signature seemed to curl around itself, more sorrow rising to the forefront.

 _No._ The word was forceful, the bond brightening to a fierce glow, _you will always be mine,_ he stated, and that was all Obi-Wan could take.

He re-shielded, his awareness coming back to the room around him, breathing hard and trembling, resisting the urge to reconnect with that intoxicating signature, to lose himself in Anakin,

Shaking the possessive thoughts out of his head, he realised that Quinlan had woken next to him, blinking up at him in concern,

“Skywalker?” he mumbled, emerging from the blankets to look up at Obi-Wan with sleepy eyes and hair mussed, and this time pain did shoot through his head as the bond flared bright on Anakin’s side with… _jealousy?_

Only years of mental training and fortitude stopped his barriers from collapsing altogether.

He leaned forward, holding his head, Quinlan more alarmed and sitting up now, reaching out to grasp the back of his neck.

“Obi?”

Strengthening his shields, Obi-Wan focused on breathing, and the sleep warm hand with its gentle pressure, relaxing him more with each breath,

“Yeah,” he replied finally.

Quinlan didn’t ask anything more and Obi-Wan didn’t want to tell, so they both settled back into the bed, Quinlan throwing a protective arm over him over the covers with grumbling sounds that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite make out, sounding like his native language. The human jedi found it hard to resist moving closer as the heavy weight brought a security with it that had been thoroughly shaken by Anakin.

Always Anakin.

Yet it was also always in Anakin that his hope lived.

Anakin may have fallen, but if Quinlan was lying beside him, truer to the light than any around him, then Anakin could make his way back too.

**_Run away from this madness that I crave_ **

**_Better take one for the pain,_ **

**_Two to forget,_ **

**_Three times now, yeah I should have known better…_ **

* * *

**Hello! Look at me go, updating weekly. I hope you enjoyed that chapter, though it's not as large as the previous one. Our boys sure are going through a lot. I hope I did the funeral, and of course, the characters justice. Not a lot happened in this chapter plot-wise, but it was important to me to set up Razonai and the order in its new home.**

**Also: my Quinlan Vos btw is essentially Jason Momoa, and more based on the comics than clone wars, as his role was tiny there. Next chapter is well underway. Should be another week!**

**Once again, I am so thankful to all the readers, please leave me a comment if you think anything needs to be fixed or want to say hi, I love hearing from you all!**

**Love xx**


	4. Healing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More emotions. Some conversations that needed to happen. A plan begins to take shape.

**Chapter 4 – Healing Hands**

**You were there for me when I was falling apart,**

**And I let you down, and left a mark on your heart,**

**I’ll never let go again, I’ll never let go again,**

**I’ll never let go again,**

**You’ve got healing hands.**

**-** **_Healing Hands, Conrad Sewell_ **

Obi-Wan stretched up to the ceiling, the afternoon sunlight spilling in through the open shutters of the training hall. The temple was quiet around him, and he relished the feel of a cool breeze on his bare arms, dressed in exercise clothes rather than his usual outfit for comfort, his utility belt and lightsabre clipped over the top.

He had been itching for some physical activity after a long morning of talking and following what was his last healing session, the droid was happy to let him do just that.

After his impromptu conversation with Anakin last night, both he and Quinlan experienced broken sleep, woken by the twins another three times for feeding and attention, the third time with a blanket dropped on them, the culprit for now, unknown.

Following the third wake up call, around six o’clock, Yoda had knocked on their door and called Obi-Wan away for a discussion and meditation, leaving Quinlan to finishing feeding an upset Leia, who only got more upset when Obi-Wan handed her over.

Once she was settled, the human jedi went willingly and spent most of the morning in Yoda’s suite, the grandmaster asking him questions about the new bond, examining it through the force, and then insisting on a joint meditation that took them well through to lunch.

The bond itself had been a calm and comforting presence in the back of his mind through the whole process, all the instability that occurred during their voyage to Razonai, the headache and the nausea, seemingly resolved. Yoda theorised that the bond was now so well established that it no longer felt the need to coerce a connection between them, and that perhaps all the side effects he had experienced occurred because the old bond had degraded after years of no use.

Though the actual process exhausted him, Obi-Wan felt energised as he left, dismissed for today with firm instructions to return tomorrow morning for meditation.

Pleased that his body and his mind were healing, and that Yoda was satisfied he was not likely to experience any further unpleasant outcomes, Obi-Wan had walked to the mess hall, where Breha was eating her lunch. Joining her with his own tray and making pleasant conversation about the state of the temple and the ship, Obi-Wan had then decided it was time to actually see the new temple for himself. So the jedi returned to his quarters where a droid was looking after the infants, pulled on his boots over his clothes and strapped his belt and lightsabre on, leaving for the temple with a towel and a water container in hand. 

Quinlan and Bail had been salvaging the metal from the cruiser just outside the door as Obi-Wan exited.

Both expressed their happiness at seeing him up and about, the Kiffar putting down the long strips of durasteel he had in his hands to approach him, shirtless and sweating in the midday warmth. After convincing Quinlan that yes, he was fine, and yes, he was able to walk on his own, and _yes_ he was going to do some exercise and _no, Quin,_ he wouldn’t push himself too far, Obi-Wan had left them behind and made his way to the large stone building.

Upon walking through the front doors, which were newly fitted from the look and smell of them, he first noticed that the ceilings were high, and the hallway was well lit with bright sunlight, a lot brighter than Coruscant’s hallowed halls had ever been. There was a sense of cleanliness here, despite the moss growing on the walls, and the creepers that littered the floor, the stones around him stained black from age. The force itself felt calmer here, less tainted than it ever had at home, as nature reclaimed what sentient's had built.

On his left, the main staircase curled away from him, rising through a stairwell that also brought sunlight into the hallway. It was decorated with drawings and chiseled pictograms, new wooden handrails attached to the ancient stone. On his right, many doors and corridors led off this main corridor, most rooms still bearing the rotten corpses of their original doors.

Poking his head through the open archway immediately to his right Obi-Wan had marveled at the cavernous room inside, whose walls were inscribed with intricate and detailed carvings on the tiles, with large holes in the very high ceiling that were no doubt once covered in glass and now let in fresh air and light. These shafts of sunlight combined with the dust floating in the untouched chamber added a certain ethereal feeling to the place, echoes of past life and laughter coming to him through the force.

Deciding he would have to come back and take a closer look, at this and the staircase, Obi-Wan had continued down the corridor.

He had followed the voices to find Zobon and Kom teaching a class on history, the padawans with their datapads sitting in the newly cleared classroom, large original looking stone tables seating two students each were paired with new wooden chairs, the two large windows at the back left open to let the light in. Not wishing to disturb them, Obi-Wan waved at the masters and the students, then continued past, coming to the next pair of double doors on the right, hanging off their hinges in the broad doorway.

Walking through, he had found himself in another large, oddly circular room, with tiered seating on all the sides, balconies clearly made for an audience jutting out of the floors above, arranged around a sunken pit in the centre of the room, with new cement and fresh paint that marked smaller duelling rings within it. Breha had told him they had needed to lay a new floor, as the old one had metal rings protruding from it, suggesting this may have been a slave or animal fighting arena.

Walking around the edge of the pit, Obi-Wan had deposited the towel and his water container on a large stone table, and opened the windows on either side, the new wood smooth under his hands.

Now, Obi-Wan stood in the centre of the arena and continued his stretches, taking extra care to work the stiffness out of his muscles gently, methodical and disciplined as always, keen to keep himself out of the medbay.

Satisfied, Obi-Wan unhooked his sabre and lit it, spinning it once to cut through the air around him.

His hair stood on end as the rush of sound and familiar blue light finally settled the last notes of anxiety within him, as if he were finally home from a long and drawn out campaign, the force sitting lightly and brightly over the building. 

Focusing his mind on the weight of the blade in his hand, he began with Shii-Cho, the first form, taught to the initiates to familiarise them with a blade and the discipline it would require. The movements came as smoothly and easily as breathing, as Obi-Wan attacked and parried his invisible foe, the basic moves a comfort in themselves, feeling himself warm up as his muscles reengaged after a week of no movement.

He moved onto form two then, Makashi always a challenge for its speed and precision. Moving lightly on his feet, his injuries forgotten, he lunged and dodged, drawing on the force around him, feeling it’s answering response, the power rising through him warm and natural like an ocean tide, building with every new wave, the bond humming his mind as the force moved through him.

The room was warm and Obi-Wan blinked sweat out of his eyes as he progressed through the second form, feeling and hearing nothing other than the movement of his body, the buzz of the lightsabre as it moved in time with him, and his breathing, controlled but loud in the cavernous chamber, echoing off the empty stands around him.

Finishing Makashi, Obi-Wan’s speed and precision increased as he slipped into his preferred and mastered fighting style, a combination of Soresu and Ataru, the defensiveness of the third offset by the aggressiveness of the fourth.

Memories came with every movement – instinctively and desperately blocking blaster bolts on a blood-soaked battlefield with clones dying around him. Duelling Anakin in the bright daylight of their apartments and the pride and joy that came from it. Attacking in fury and grief while standing over the body of Qui-Gon, desolate at the loss of his master but determined not to lose as Maul’s eyes glowered back at him.

The forms were complicated and intricate, but Obi-Wan knew them well, the metal hot with his grip, dust motes hanging in the beams of light as the blade and his feet kicked it up off the ground with every move in his deadly dance.

Breathing hard now, the sun lower than it had been when he started, Obi-Wan’s shirt was soaked through as he flipped backwards and landed in a crouch to finish, panting, the force sparking around him, his own head feeling clearer than it had in weeks, and was surprised when a chorus of clapping and cheering broke out, startling him completely out of the hyper focus he had fallen into.

Turning around to face the doors, he found all the padawans, Cin, and Kom there, the young jedi learners looking at him with expressions that could only be described as absolute awe, one of the girls, a human and the oldest at fourteen, standing still in rapture.

Feeling his cheeks redden, Obi-Wan ducked his head and went to stroke his beard before he remembered he did not have one, fingers meeting smooth skin instead as Cin stepped forward,

“And that is an almost perfect demonstration of the third and fourth forms,” the battlemaster said, looking at the padawans, “tomorrow I expect you to have studied them, and be prepared to go through them, much as Master Kenobi has done,” he said, glancing over to Obi-Wan who had walked up to the table and was taking a long drink, decidedly not looking at the trainees, “though I doubt you’ll be able to replicate _that_ ,” he added, an unimpressed note in his voice that Obi-Wan remembered well from his own days under Cin’s tutelage.

Nothing was ever good enough for Cin, and even when it was, it could be better.

“Truly, that was well done Obi-Wan, but your thirtieth attack was sloppy, and though your carriage was good, you failed to defend your left side adequately,” the battlemaster called out, walking across the room as Kom lead the padawans away, Obi-Wan towelling his hair dry and pushing it off his face,

“I _do_ have an injury there, Master,” Obi-Wan said, though he acknowledged the words and stored them away for next time,

“An injury is not an excuse,” Cin said, coming to stop in front of him, “but is acceptable for now,” Obi-Wan laughed then, and shook his head even as the battlemaster raised an eyebrow,

“Don’t change,” Obi-Wan said and Cin laughed too, then, the severe lines of his face softening,

“Oh, I won’t,” he reassured the younger jedi, “But I had come here to ask if you would help me teach tomorrow, the youngest initiates are struggling with Shii-Cho and I haven’t the padawans help tomorrow, as Master Vos will be taking them for a psychometry demonstration and force-tracking,”

“Oh that’s good,” Obi-Wan said, throwing his towel over his shoulder, turning for the door, noticing a twinge in his left leg as he did so, “there’s no one more qualified to teach tracking,” he added, and noticed as Cin begrudgingly nodded his agreement, following Obi-Wan around the pit,

“What’s your issue with Quin?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling a flare of protectiveness, but determined not to let emotion colour his words. The battlemaster sighed, hooking his left hand into his belt, looking away from Obi-Wan and at the crooked door as they passed it and entered the corridor,

“I…do not have an issue with Master Vos,” he replied evenly and Obi-Wan nearly scoffed aloud, but maintained his respectful tone,

“You quarrel with him quite often, and do not like a lot of his ideas” Obi-Wan said, observing Cin as they walked through a patch of sunlight.

The battlemaster seemed to be thinking to himself before he looked at Obi-Wan again, his expression quite serious,

“He fell,” Cin said and Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, coming to a stop, but Cin held up his hand, also stopping, standing just outside the now empty classroom,

“He fell because he thought he could dance with the dark side and come out intact. He was prideful. He was…he _is_ …too much like my younger self,”

Obi-Wan stared in surprise at the revered master, the defender of the jedi code, a paragon in the temple, “you?” he asked before he could bite his tongue, and fleeting sadness crossed the battlemaster’s face, as he glanced up to the shaft of light that was falling on Obi-Wan, studying the beams as it cut through the darkness,

“Yes,” he said, his tone remaining the same even as his eyes grew more distant, “I was brilliant, when I was younger,” he stated, “I thought I could best anyone and anything. My arrogance led me to take a mission as a knight, a mission that was difficult, that should have prompted me to ask for help. Instead I said I could handle it, and I am responsible for the death of my padawan learner,” he looked back at Obi-Wan, the younger jedi shocked, any admission of weakness from this man seemingly wrong, unreal,

“I learnt from my mistake, and retired from active missions, I know my own weaknesses,” a sliver of regret showed on Cin’s face even as he continued, “but Vos seems immune to his past, continuing to turn away from our code as if it was the sole problem,” Cin shrugged then, folding his arms into his sleeves, “Perhaps I judge him wrongly, perhaps it is not my place,” he said quietly, “But….I fear for our children. I fear for their future and what will happen to us if even one more should fall.”

With that, he turned away and started walking to the main doors, Obi-Wan following quietly, trying to gauge what Cin was feeling through the force around him, but as always, the battlemaster was fully shielded and composed.

As they emerged into full sunlight, the older jedi’s eyes fixed themselves on the horizon, visible from here, over the tops of the trees. They stood in silence for a little while longer, Quinlan’s and Bail’s voices floating up to them, hidden behind the forest with most of the front end of the passenger cruiser, the breeze whispering through the leaves around them,

“I am trying to listen to Yoda’s new proposals,” Cin said, as he turned to look at Obi-Wan, “I am trying, Obi-Wan, but can you see why it is hard for me?” Cin asked then, with a note of despondency in his voice, and Obi-Wan nodded, his heart softening as he looked at the older jedi,

“I’m scared for the children too, Cin,” he replied, trying to explain that he could see the difficulty the battlemaster was having with adapting to the new and rather drastic changes around them, but also why it was so important to keep trying, to not give up, “but we can’t hold people’s pasts against them, we can’t keep judging them by choices that they made. The dark could take us all, it calls to us all. The only thing we can do is help each other, and try to find a way forward together,”

In a way, being bonded to Anakin made it easier for Obi-Wan. He had a constant reminder of all their failures of the past, all their mistakes, and why they needed to correct it now.

Cin glanced down to his joined hands, and was quiet for a long moment, the two of them standing at the threshold of the great building around them. The playful voices of padawans filled the afternoon air, reaching them from further down the plateau, around the stern of the cruiser, where they had set up a game of nerf-ball.

Finally, Cin looked up at Obi-Wan with a small smile,

“You’ve grown a lot, in your wisdom and strength, young Obi-Wan,” he said, reaching out to pat Obi-Wan’s shoulder awkwardly, stiffly, but sincerely, “Qui-Gon would be proud,” he added, his voice soft, before he turned and walked off, in the direction of the cruiser.

Obi-Wan watched him go even as his heart swelled.

Maybe it was time to have a word with Quinlan about easing off on the old jedi. 

With that in mind, Obi-Wan also made his way back down the short path through the trees, Bail and Quinlan coming into view as they lifted an extra-large piece of metal, and brought it to rest against the side of the cruiser, huffing and puffing,

“You have the force, why don’t you try using it?’ Obi-Wan asked, a smile on his lips as Quinlan turned to look at him,

“Well you have the force too, and were no help,” he shot back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, his skin glowing bronze under the sun, the yellow tattoo on his cheeks complementing it beautifully, 

“I’m convalescing, I don’t have to be helpful,” Obi-Wan replied and Bail laughed, as he pulled his shirt off too, the material once white but now covered in black and brown marks from a day of hard work,

“He’s got you there,” Bail chuckled, wiping his face, as the Kiffar rolled his eyes,

“Yeah, yeah, alright. How was training?” he asked, taking a deep drink of water from one of the containers resting at the root of a nearby tree,

“Very relaxing. I was just heading inside to take a shower,” he said pointing to the door, “will you come to our room when you’re done here?” he asked as he moved off, and Quinlan nodded, picking up the welding tool and handing it to Bail, who had already turned back to get to work on…well Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what the two of them were doing, but as he entered the cool interior of the ship, he was sure it was something productive.

Making his way through the corridor and past the weapons and first aid packs that hung near the entrance, Obi-Wan walked through the mess and up the corridor that branched off it to his room, thinking to find the droid inside with the children.

When the door slid open, however, he was surprised to find Yoda instead, sitting on the couch with the holo TV on a children’s program, Leia lying in a little repurposed metal box heavily padded with blankets next to him, and Luke in his arms, both turned so they could face the screen,

“Greetings, Master Kenobi,” Yoda called, raising his free hand in welcome, the human jedi walking into the room with a mix of confusion and amusement,

“Greetings, Master Yoda,” he responded, bowing slightly as he walked over,

“Very upset the infants were,” Yoda said, looking up to Obi-Wan as he took Luke from the master, wanting to hold the child despite their relatively short separation, the baby cooing softly as he brought him to his chest,

“They were? But the droid should have been with them,” Obi-Wan replied, taking a seat on the coffee table opposite Yoda as the grandmaster reached into the bassinet where Leia slept, her small hand wrapping around his finger,

“Project their distress in the force they did, meditate I could not, troubled I was,” Yoda said, looking back to Obi-Wan, who felt a touch of worry – they were stretched thin as it was, and needed to care for the other children and padawans as well. On top of that, Obi-Wan could not spend all his time here in the cabin once he was cleared for duty,

“Concern have not, Obi-Wan, happy they were once dismiss the droid I did. Entertaining this has been, continue care I shall,” Yoda declared, nodding wisely as Obi-Wan processed the thought of the grandmaster of the jedi order taking on a role as…babysitter,

“Are you sure, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, as Luke sighed quietly in his arms, wriggling closer to him,

“Care the children require, time have I. Soon on missions you will go,” Yoda said, his ears moving back as he spoke.

Though surprised that they were even considering leaving this planet, Obi-Wan simply nodded, trusting that Yoda had a plan and he would tell him when he was ready,

“I’d like to shower, do you mind staying with them a while longer?” he asked, lowering Luke back down so he could look at him, his large blue eyes blinking open blearily at being disturbed,

“Certainly, I can,” Yoda said, gently taking Luke back.

Smiling, and shaking his head in disbelief at the very strange turn their lives had taken, he simply chalked it up to the force and reminded himself that they were lucky to have this, as he walked into the fresher.

Finishing up quickly, he returned dressed in his tunic and pants, boots remaining off by the side of the fresher door as he clipped his belt on, leaving his lightsabre off on top of the coffee table.

Both Luke and Leia were back in their crib by his and Quinlan’s bed.

“Sleep they shall now,” Yoda said looking at Obi-Wan as he rested on his walking stick. Some of the shadows in his eyes seemed reduced, and his countenance brighter. Perhaps staying with the children was not only for everyone else’s benefit, and Obi-Wan was glad that after all they had been through, Yoda was able to find some rest and healing,

“Thanks, Master,” he said, and Yoda nodded his acknowledgement before shuffling out.

Left with some time before Quinlan would return, and Breha having informed him that renovations were proceeding on schedule, he checked on the babies and then dropped down onto the couch, pushing his wet hair off his forehead as he flicked through the channels, not particularly interested in any of them.

The bond pulsed then, and Obi-Wan paused, turning his attention back to it.

All day it had been a presence he could not ignore, alive with power and life. It was not irritating though – it was quite reassuring. Knowing it was there, knowing that _Anakin_ was there even with all that they had experienced together, it had simply settled into a background awareness, accompanying him through his daily tasks.

Now it almost felt like Anakin was asking for entrance, for permission to re-open the bond, reaching out to him around the barriers he had built. Remembering Yoda’s words from this morning, about how he had to be careful when they used the bond, be aware that it can quickly get out of control, he lowered his shields slowly, immediately hit again by an overwhelming urge to dive into Anakin’s mind and bask in the comfort of another’s force signature.

Mastering himself, he allowed the urge to change from insistent demands to simply an interesting suggestion, and focused on Anakin instead. 

The fallen jedi’s spirit seemed…less turbulent today,

 _Obi-Wan,_ he spoke the name with relief, as if he had been waiting since their last conversation,

 _Anakin,_ he answered, holding his trepidation back, pleased to see that Anakin continued to respect his privacy, even though he could easily just reach out through the open bond in a torrent of feelings, take what it was that he wanted, and leave. They were quiet for a while more, and Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing.

The truth of the matter was that it was hard to keep himself shielded all day from such a powerful bond. It wasn’t enough to drain him of energy or even distract him from what he was doing, but enough that if he didn’t concentrate, a part of his mind would simply slip around the barrier, keen to be reunited with the other half. Perhaps it was the force, but Obi-Wan knew it was a part of him too.

Anakin’s signature swirled around him, as he grew more relaxed on the couch, his muscles pleasantly worn out from the exercise, some physical ache present in his legs and his chest, but his mind calm. Some of that serenity seemed to seep over the bond to Anakin, who grabbed it happily, deepening their connection as much as Obi-Wan allowed.

Obi-Wan felt his eyes close.

 _I missed you,_ the confession was quiet, and truthful,

 _Then why did you leave?_ Obi-Wan asked, a question he had asked many times over the last few years, the pain of Anakin’s withdrawal from him rising once more, and he felt Anakin’s remorse,

 _I didn’t even think you noticed_ , the former jedi said, surprise colouring the words, even as his hands anxiously fiddled with the blankets around him, a ghost feeling of soft sheets against calloused fingers drifting through the bond to Obi-Wan.

 _Of course, I noticed!_ Obi-Wan snapped back, irritation spiking through him, disbelief as well, that Anakin could have possibly thought otherwise, _You stopped talking, you stopped spending time with me, you stopped coming home in the evenings on Coruscant…eventually we only saw each other on missions, Anakin,_ now that Obi-Wan had opened the box of betrayal and hurt he had hidden away over the years, he found that he didn’t want to stop, _I missed you too!_ he cried and he felt Anakin recoil slightly from the force of the words, _I thought it was you who stopped caring, I thought you were telling me you didn’t want me to get involved anymore -_

 _No!_ Anakin’s soul twisted in misery, _no,_ he said again, and Obi-Wan shared that pain, the list of misunderstandings and miscommunication between them long and varied,

 _You lied to me,_ Obi-Wan said then, hurting as the memory of Padmé telling him Anakin’s secrets replayed itself in his mind as the other’s force signature grew cloudy around them.

Obi-Wan felt guilt rise in him too, Anakin’s pain echoing through the bond even as the younger man tried to hide it and retreat, his self-loathing and shame dimming his golden glow.

Obi-Wan felt helpless as he saw it, he hated it.

He didn’t want this.

He couldn’t bear to see this.

So throwing all caution to the wind, he reached out, allowing their signatures to mix more fully, Anakin’s almost trembling with relief as Obi-Wan’s light swamped him.

Obi-Wan was hurting too, but he didn’t blame Anakin anymore - how could he, when he was almost equally to blame?

 _We are, both of us, fools,_ he said, the words laced with his own anguish at Anakin’s suffering,

 _I am sorry, Anakin,_ he said, sending his regret, and his forgiveness over the bond, even as he himself came to the realisation that he did forgive Anakin, had forgiven him the moment he had seen him again, as the young man lay dying in the cold cell he had been imprisoned in.

The fallen jedi latched onto the emotions greedily, and then Obi-Wan was swamped with the other’s feelings, guilt interlaced with all of them,

 _You have nothing to be sorry for,_ Anakin replied, agony in the words, _I hurt you, I hid so many things from you and…you forgive me? Why?_

 _Because it was my duty to look out for you,_ Obi-Wan answered, the words coming easily, _it was my duty to see the darkness that surrounded you, before it could influence your decisions,_

 _You cannot be held responsible for my actions,_ Anakin pulled away then, leaving a horrible coldness where his signature had once been, _I have done terrible things._

 _You did._ Obi-Wan agreed and he felt the fear in Anakin rise up, the terror of being rejected, and then the darkness which moved around him, ready to offer its bitter and poisonous version of comfort.

Pushing himself forward again, Anakin’s signature twisted in pain as Obi-Wan forced the black ropes back,

 _You did._ He said again, _but you can come back, Anakin. Padmé knew it, and I know it. You can come **back** ; we can fix this. _

There was a moment of stillness then, in the bond, both of them suspended in a place outside of time and substance, the very force around them burning with their shared power.

Anakin’s force signature seemed to change in front of him. Its golden light shone brighter, and he felt the tears on Anakin’s cheeks, heard his sobs as he turned into the pillow, and his heart broke for his former padawan. There were so many problems they had, so many issues they were going to encounter, but Anakin could not do this alone, and Obi-Wan could not leave him,

_You’ve suffered enough, Anakin. It’s time to come home._

A cry distracted him then, and Obi-Wan pulled himself out of the bond, extracting himself from Anakin’s signature with some difficulty. He blinked as the cabin came back into focus, and the baby’s cry sounded again. He got to his feet, leaving the bond as it was, open, still feeling Anakin’s emotions but staying in his own mind, overall more balanced himself, as if having the bond closed had left a piece of his soul locked away and only now he was whole.

Heading over to the crib, he reached out to Leia who quieted immediately, and picked her up, while Luke slept peaceably,

“You’re just like your father,” he murmured quietly against her forehead, glancing out the viewport to see that the sun was setting, and that perhaps he had spent more time with Anakin than he had intended to,

 _She’s more like her mother, actually,_ Anakin replied, his sorrow receding, distracted by his daughter, and Obi-Wan laughed then, a weight starting to lift slowly from his shoulders,

“In looks, perhaps, but Padmé was not anywhere near this adamant when it came to receiving attention,” he said aloud, holding the baby in the crook of his left arm as he walked over to the kitchenette,

 _Hmm perhaps,_ Anakin replied.

Obi-Wan used his free hand to fill a glass standing by the sink with water and drank from it,

 _Will you close the bond again?_ Anakin asked, a note of anxiety in his tone and Obi-Wan sighed, turning so that his back was leaning against the bench, reaching out to play with the little one’s hands as she smiled up at him,

 _This isn’t healthy, Anakin_ , he replied, feeling the pleasant vibrations of power as it flowed from Anakin to him, momentarily glimpsing the chair Anakin was levitating in front of him,

 _I can’t do it without you,_ Anakin said then, the confession coming quietly, Obi-Wan well aware of how difficult even that was for Anakin to admit,

 _I know,_ he replied gently as Leia waved her arms around, trying to get his attention back, and he smiled at her, waving the sealed saltshaker over to hover just out of her reach, _I don’t expect you to do it alone._

Relief washed through Anakin,

 _Why do you not hate me?_ he asked then, sounding young and frightened, still fearing rejection,

 _Because I have never been able to apply logic or sense to anything concerning you, Anakin._ Obi-Wan replied, a sense of fatigue following the question, years of pretending otherwise combating with recent memories of pain and loss.

Anakin seemed stunned, so Obi-Wan continued, _I can’t forget what’s happened Anakin. I know you fell and embraced the dark side, betraying our tenants…betraying **my** teachings. _

He swallowed around the bitterness the thought brought, focused on preventing Anakin from wallowing in his own self-hatred,

_You turned your back on us when we needed you at the temple. You were going to…to kill the younglings._

Saying it even now, days after the event, brought Obi-Wan’s heart to his throat and Anakin’s shame was almost overwhelming. Obi-Wan reached out again, trying to counter the pain in Anakin’s heart, using his signature to once again block the part of Anakin that tried to take the hurt and turn it sideways into vengeance, into anger,

_I’m not denying you did all of that. What I’m saying is that I know you can redeem yourself, and there’s little point in letting you waste away, punishing yourself, when you can make a difference to the jedi that remain….a difference to me._

Anakin seemed to be taking a moment to absorb his words, hanging on a tipping point, Obi-Wan on one side, the darkness pooling on the other, glaring at the bond with a creeping and sickly sense of loathing. Obi-Wan held his ground and was relieved when Anakin seemed to win, pushing the darkness back,

 _Okay._ He said, his signature settling around them, _okay, I will try._

_That’s all I can ask._

Obi-Wan moved away from the sink then, to where the babies’ bottles lay. It was probably time for another feeding judging by how restless Leia was getting in his arms.

 _Will you come and visit me?_ The question was uncertain, and Obi-Wan thought, sorting through his own emotions as he added the baby formula and set the milk to warm. Talking to Anakin through the bond was in some ways so easy because while he could not see him, communication was clear as he had all of Anakin laid out in front of him. Seeing the man, after everything they had been through…was a daunting thought.

 _You don’t have to._ The quiet words came through, disappointment in them, and Obi-Wan sighed, weak even now to Anakin’s distress,

_Yes, I will._

And with that, he re-shielded, this time leaving it as more a curtain over the bond rather than the solid steel door he had used in hurt and panic last night. He felt a pulse of relief from Anakin, projected outwards, but other than that, he could no longer see or feel every part of Anakin’s soul.

He _would_ go and see Anakin tonight.

With that decided, he set to feeding both twins at the desk, leaning back in the comfortable chair, looking out the viewport as the sky darkened outside, just finishing up with Luke when the door opened and brought with it the smell of ozone, earth and wood.

Turning around, he smiled at Quinlan who looked worn out, throwing his dirty shirt on the floor by the door, and gently removing his boots so as not to drag mud through their room,

“That took a while,” Obi-Wan said, as Quinlan walked over, glancing into the crib to check on Leia as he did,

“We were hard at work,” he replied, hopping up onto the desk to tower over Obi-Wan and Luke, the baby’s eyes falling closed as he finished the bottle,

“So I saw. What were you making?” Obi-Wan asked, putting the bottle down and wrapping the blankets tighter around Luke, giving Quinlan his full attention,

“Getting plate metal ready for repairs to the shuttle,” Quinlan said, “the cruiser probably isn’t going to fly again,” he added, and Obi-Wan hummed his agreement. It looked like it was going to be a permanent fixture on Razonai,

“When was that decision made, by the way?” Obi-Wan asked, “Master Yoda mentioned something about going out on missions?”

“Oh yeah,” Quinlan replied as he reached up to undo his ponytail, and started taking his hair out of its braids, “Yoda said when you were recovered, that it would be best for you and me to head out again, see if we can get a good understanding of what’s happened on Coruscant, the state of the galaxy, and bring back extra clothes and stuff, seeing as we ran with nothing but what we were wearing,”

Obi-Wan nodded, seeing the wisdom in that, reaching out to pluck a purple leaf out of the hair Quinlan had let down.

The Kiffar laughed, “I fell into a bush,” he said in explanation and Obi-Wan shook his head fondly,

“You’re quite the disaster,”

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re still quite the hero,” he replied and Obi-Wan furrowed a brow,

“What do you mean?” he asked, getting to his feet to return Luke to the crib,

“You should have _heard_ the padawans gushing about the ‘handsome Master Kenobi’ and his ‘amazing sabre skills,’” Quinlan teased, finished with his hair and heading to the closet for a change of clothes and a towel.

Obi-Wan blushed, turning to face the Kiffar, “Really?” he asked, and Quinlan rolled his eyes,

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Because that seems unlikely,” Obi-Wan replied, walking over to the couch and sitting on it, the Kiffar merely throwing him a sceptical look before heading into the fresher.

That evening passed pleasantly, Bail and Breha coming over to share a dinner with them, Cin coming in later to check that Obi-Wan was still free for a ten o’clock class tomorrow. He and Quinlan ended up on the couch, watching a holodrama romance that neither of them found very interesting, but took pleasure in mocking,

“If a woman ever looks at me like that, I’ll throw myself out the airlock,” Quinlan said, taking a sip of his Mandalorian liquor, while Obi-Wan chortled,

“yeah but if she looks at you like that, you might not make it to the airlock,” he replied, and the Kiffar smirked and raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. They were interrupted when the door opened behind them, Master Yoda and a droid walking in,

“Speak to you both I will,” he said, gravely, “council meeting have we will,” and Obi-Wan immediately paused the movie and turned the screen off, getting to his feet with Quinlan,

“I’ll look after the younglings,” the droid said, as Obi-Wan and Quinlan followed Master Yoda out, reluctant though they both were to leave the children in the droid’s care.

They walked through the corridor and then the mess in silence, following the black tiled corridor on the other side to the recreation room, which Obi-Wan now thought of as the meeting room, as the children were not allowed in. There, Cin, Breha, and Bail were already waiting for them,

“Coming are Masters Kom and Zobon?” Yoda asked, as he took the seat closest to the door and Obi-Wan walked around to sit opposite him, Quinlan following,

“Haven’t heard anything from them yet,” Cin replied, “but they were just finishing up preparation for tomorrow’s classes,”

“Are we just going on with the normal class schedule?” Obi-Wan asked, not usually having much to do with padawan classes given his recent high-profile role as a general. Cin shook his head,

“No, it’s less structured, and a lot more practical,” he replied, “they know things are different now, and the quicker we have them ready for whatever challenges lie ahead, the better,”

“Indeed,” Yoda agreed from across the table.

Obi-Wan knew it was a sensible approach, but he couldn’t stop the sadness at the loss of innocence, the loss of learning for learning’s sake that recent events had brought about. They were thoroughly weakened and could not defend themselves in their current state. Learning about the intricacies of jedi history or the origins of the lightsabre would not do anything for the younglings. They needed to be able to wield their sabre, and understand modern history, and how the events of the last week were going to shape their lives. It was unfortunate.

The door swished open then, admitting Kom and Zobon, who apologised as they took their places,

“Good here we all are,” Yoda began as all the masters gave him their full attention, “news I have from coruscant – Emperor Palpatine calling back all senators to the senate he is,”

Quinlan exchanged a confused glance with Obi-Wan, as the other masters murmured in surprise, “Why?” he asked, “the emperor does not need a senate anymore, the game is up,”

Yoda hummed in agreement, laying one hand over the other and resting it on the table in front of him, “Suggestive of unrest in the galaxy it is,” the grandmaster said, “trouble in bringing all the systems into line there must be,”

Obi-Wan felt anxiety building up in him as he realised where Yoda was going with this, “You mean to send Bail and Breha into the sarlaac’s den, then?” he asked, unable to keep the note of accusation out of his voice.

Yoda turned his gaze onto Obi-Wan, “Volunteer did Senator Organa,”

“And what exactly would their cover be? They’ve been missing for a week, which conveniently, is just as long we have been gone as well,” Quinlan said, his sarcasm only barely hiding the concern in his voice, 

“A shuttle mishap is supposed to have left us stranded in the outer rim,” Bail replied, turning Obi-Wan’s attention back to him, “and I will say that we were attacked by pirates, and couldn’t contact anyone for help until we drifted closer to Polis Massa and could use emergency sub-space frequencies to call for help,”

“Polis Massa?” Zobon exclaimed, leaning back in his chair, “that’s on the other side of the galaxy!”

“Precisely,” Breha replied, “if they do get wise to us, at least they won’t have any idea where you are,”

“I don’t like this,” Quinlan said and Obi-Wan agreed,

“Neither do I, you would need to alter the shuttle’s logs pretty extensively for that story to hold up,”

“And it can be done,” Bail said, his tone firm, “I know it’s a risk, but being back within earshot of the emperor might be the difference between an empire of darkness for the next thousand years, and us finding a way to overthrow this dictator,”

There was quiet in the room, as Obi-Wan tried to find a hole in their plan, but couldn’t. As long as they modified the ship correctly, it was very likely to work. Moreover, Alderaan was an important system and Bail Organa’s political skills a valuable asset,

“What were you even doing out there, so far from the core planets?” Quinlan asked, “that will be the first question anyone asks,”

Breha smiled sadly then, gesturing outwards with her hands, “Everyone knows we’ve been trying to have a child for many years. We will say we heard about a fertility treatment there, as there are many medical centres on Polis,”

Obi-Wan felt a burst of admiration at her courage, the strength it must have taken to put herself and her husband out on the line like that, as Bail put an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him, planting a light kiss on her forehead,

“Yet another debt we will not be able to repay,” Kom said, bowing to the couple, “we are very grateful,”

“Do this, you do not have to,” Yoda said, looking at the two of them, “another solution present itself can,”

“When? After all the systems are either converted or scared into following the new emperor?” Breha asked, her voice hard as she bit the title out, “I want to have children, but not in a world where their freedom is defined by their usefulness. We can’t just sit back here and watch as everything Bail and I have worked for over the last decade in the senate crumble to ashes,”

“And you have all fought for democracy, and for peace these many years,” Bail replied, “while we in the senate allowed corruption to grow unchecked. It is our duty to make that right,” he bowed at the circle as a whole, “we’re in this together,”

“May the force be with you, then” Yoda said, turning back to address the rest of the gathering,

“Only one shuttle have we, so Master Kenobi, Master Vos, with Bail and Breha go you will,” Yoda turned on the data pad in front of them, and a star map projected up from its screen, “disguised as bounty hunters you will be, go to Serenno, you will, to acquire supplies, a new shuttle, and information. Near to us it is,” beside him, Quinlan tensed at the mention of the planet’s name and Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on his forearm, hidden from the others by the table,

“To Serenno?” Obi-Wan enquired, keeping his tone neutral, “Is there not another world we could go to?”

“We’ll be dealing with the black-market, and I know a fellow on Serenno who sells ships,” Bail said, and Obi-Wan sighed. He could feel an edge of panic to the force around Quinlan.

“How about I go by myself then? Master Vos would be better suited to remain here and help, and I would be rather less conspicuous. After all, Kiffar are seldom found so far outside the inner rim,” he suggested, hoping that they would agree with his logic.

Yoda looked over to him, and then at Quinlan, assessing.

“Very well, by yourself you will go, Master Kenobi,” he said finally,

“Are you sure that would be wise?” Cin questioned and Obi-Wan replied before Quinlan could, as the Kiffar moved next to him,

“I went on plenty of missions these last years, this is no different,” 

“And Obi-Wan is correct, by himself, he, Bail and Breha are just another group of humans wandering around the Outer Rim,” Kom cut in, nodding, “it would be better for him to go alone,”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said, “Where are these bounty hunter disguises?”

“Well not having your beard is part of the disguise,” Breha said and there was laughter around the circle even as Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat,

“Yes, younger you look. Wear spare uniforms from ship you can,” Yoda suggested, looking at Bail,

“Oh yes!” the senator exclaimed, “the ambassador had his private staff dressed up in black leather, for whatever reason, and quite a few outfits remained in the laundry,”

Beside him Quinlan snorted, “Obi-Wan in leather?” he asked, a grin on his face even as Obi-Wan glared at him,

“Leave tomorrow afternoon you will, to arrive on Serenno by night,” Yoda commanded, and then dismissed everyone before shuffling out.

Obi-Wan followed Quinlan as they took their leave, walking back through the mess. They passed a few padawans who were gathered for a late-night snack and smiled and waved back at them as they excitedly acknowledged the masters, Obi-Wan embarrassed again as Quinlan’s words from earlier that evening came back to him.

Going around the bend, they followed the blue tiled corridor and entered their quarters, and Obi-Wan saw Quinlan’s relief in his face and posture as he turned around,

“Thank you,” he breathed, reaching up to fiddle with one of his braids, an old nervous habit of his that he continued well past adolescence. Obi-Wan clicked his tongue in dismissal, bumping Quin’s shoulder gently with his own as he walked past,

“I would not ask you to return there,” he said, and Quinlan sighed, rubbing both his eyes with the palm of each hand,

“Of all the planets, it just had to be Count Dooku’s one, didn’t it,” he groaned and Obi-Wan shook his head and shrugged in reply, glad he was able to save his friend a return to the place of his torture and fall.

They finished showering themselves, and cleaning, then feeding the babies, both infants in quite a bad mood after being left with the droid, Leia refusing the bottle until Obi-Wan started telling her the story of Master Bastila Shan of the old republic, and her many adventures.

It was close to midnight when he and Quinlan finally got into bed, the Kiffar yawning widely,

“You know, I want to know the end of that story,” he said, moving so that he was buried deeper in the sheets, covering his head as he was wont to do,

“You don’t know the ending?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously as he reached up to turn the lights off,

“I didn’t have a master jedi telling me bedtime stories in the temple at night,” Quinlan replied, his voice getting sleepier, “what happens to her?” Obi-Wan laughed,

“I’ll tell you tomorrow if you’re good,” he replied,

“You’re no fun, ’m always good” Quinlan sighed, “Good night, Obi,” he said then,

“Good night, Quin,” the human replied, silence falling on the room.

While the force grew still and restful around Quinlan, Obi-Wan felt none of the calm that hung around the Kiffar.

He was nervous, the thought of seeing Anakin raising his anxiety levels. He had thought waiting until everyone was asleep would make it easier, but now he was aware that it would be just him and Anakin for the first time in so many months, without the pressure of the war hanging over them, and it was a stressful thought.

Lately, they had met in transit heading to a mission, or on the battlefield, no time for so much as a ‘how are you’ before one of them launched into an update or list of orders. On those rare occasions they were given leave, Anakin was out of their apartments, or busy with his droids.

Obi-Wan had not spent a full recreation period with Anakin since before his padawan had been knighted.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling, Obi-Wan waited nervously until the lit dial of the clock above the holo screen showed zero one hundred hours.

Slowly, he extracted himself from the bed, making sure to pull the covers back up over Quinlan. He carefully crept over to the closet, sliding the door open as quietly as he could, and pulling on his white tunic. Securing the leather belt over the top, he left his tabard off but pulled a thick, knee-length black jacket on, probably belonging to a previous occupant, as the chill of Razonai seeped into the ship.

He was reaching for his boots by the fresher when the Kiffar’s deep voice broke the silence,

“And where are you going?” he asked.

Startled, his heart racing in his chest, Obi-Wan let out a long breath as he leant against the fresher door,

“To see Anakin,” he bit out, expecting a negative response as he yanked his boots on with more force than necessary, bringing his breathing back under control.

The expected exclamation of alarm didn’t come.

Instead the Kiffar sat up slowly, reaching up to turn the lights on to their lowest setting, looking concerned but resigned as he squinted in the light,

“I’d be a hypocrite if I told you not to go,” he said, his words a whisper so as not to wake the children, “but I will say that you need to be careful. The darkness might be lifting, but it’s not just a battle, Obi, it’s a war that Skywalker has to fight,”

Obi-Wan nodded, glancing at his lightsabre which still sat on the coffee table, before turning away, and heading towards the door. 

If this was to be a battle, then he intended to fight this one unarmed. 

* * *

Obi-Wan had spent a lot of his life on board a ship.

As he walked through the corridors of the cruiser now though, he realised that he had never felt so isolated, the metal around him feeling vast and uncaring. In all his experiences, other jedi or clones would patrol the decks, awake and alert no matter what the time was. Here, on a grounded ship, there was little point in keeping guard when they appeared to be the only sentient lifeforms on the entire planet, and if the empire did find them, having a guard would not help because they’d be wiped out before they could so much as wake the children.

It was peaceful in its own way.

It didn’t stop the unease from running through the master jedi though, unsure of what the outcome of tonight’s visit would be.

His footsteps felt extra loud as he walked on the tiled floors, the mess creaking around him as he turned right and walked around the bend in the corridor, coming up to the medbay. The doors slid open, and one of the medical droids detached itself from its charging port, rolling up to him as he walked through,

“Master Kenobi, can I be of service?’ it asked, and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“No, I am here to see Anakin Skywalker,”

The droid pointed to the isolation chamber, “He is through there,”

Nodding his thanks and dismissing the droid, Obi-Wan took a deep breath as he crossed the short distance to the round room, pausing in front of it. He searched himself, looking for a sense of balance, both desperately needing to see Anakin again now he was so close, and scared of what might be waiting for him.

He took another breath, and then touched the panel to the side of the door. 

The lights flickered on to their dimmest setting as he walked in, Anakin blinking at him drowsily from the bed.

The fallen jedi was in a white hospital shirt and pants, his boots, tabard, belt and robes folded neatly and placed on a corner shelf behind the bed. Blankets lay pooled around his feet as though he had kicked them off, and his hands were cuffed to the guard rails of the bed, in a position that looked just shy of comfortable. He looked tired, his face pale and drawn, but Obi-Wan was pleased to see that the damage he had done to his wrists was all but fully healed, transparent bacta patches covering them.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Obi-Wan felt, through the veil over the bond, Anakin’s surprise at his appearance, 

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Anakin said, his voice hoarse from disuse, as he shifted into a sitting position with some difficulty, the cuffs buzzing as he did so,

“I have never broken a promise to you,” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his tone light as he came to a stop at the foot of Anakin’s bed, leaning against the metal frame.

Anakin’s expression darkened as he looked away from Obi-Wan.

“No, you haven’t,” he agreed, the force moving around him in swirls of light and dark,

“But I did break your trust,” Obi-Wan said quietly, not wanting to avoid this subject, knowing that this had been the crux of their problem, the start of what was almost their end. Anakin’s eyes snapped back to his at the words, blue and bright, while Obi-Wan’s heart thundered in his chest, wondering if he had been wrong to address the issue so openly. 

Anakin’s gaze moved then, and he seemed to be searching for something in Obi-Wan’s body language, eyes travelling down Obi-Wan’s form, taking in his simple clothes. Obi-Wan tried not to fidget under the scrutiny, even as he felt self-conscious – he knew he was thin from weeks of not eating well, barely sleeping, and long military campaigns. He knew he was still lightly bruised, and probably looked just as tired as Anakin did.

“You did what you thought was best,” Anakin replied eventually, eyes coming back up to study Obi-Wan’s face.

There was another silence between the two of them, both having suffered and lost so much in such a short period. When the silence stretched on, Obi-Wan’s sadness at their distance, at the destruction of their relationship, grew.

“Force, how did we get here?” he breathed, rubbing his chin as he took in Anakin’s hair, longer now than it had ever been, the scar over his right eye dark in the dim night-cycle lights, the younger man still looking as handsome as ever.

Anakin looked away again, staring down at his cuffed metal hand, the glove he normally wore lying with all his other clothes, “I don’t know,” he mumbled, despondent, his sorrow making its way past the weak mental barrier over the bond and stabbing Obi-Wan with its potency. 

Obi-Wan sighed again, and turned around towards the door,

“You’re leaving already?” Anakin asked, panic in his voice, and Obi-Wan shook his head, finding the datapad he was looking for next to the exit. Picking it up, he turned and came to stand to the right of the bed. Without saying anything, he reached out towards Anakin, and the fallen jedi flinched away, making the sadness in Obi-Wan’s heart grow.

How had they come to distrust each other so much?

Keeping that thought to himself, he quickly looked at the settings of the force cuffs, then the datapad, before he deactivated first the right, then the left, total silence falling over the room as the gentle buzz of the cuffs fell away, Anakin staying still beneath his hands.

He picked both cuffs up and put them on the chair sitting by the bed, turning to face Anakin who was watching him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion as he lowered the guard rails of the bed with another command from the datapad,

“What are you doing?” the fallen jedi asked, the force around him becoming harder to read,

“Freeing you from the force cuffs,” Obi-Wan replied,

“You don’t even have your sabre, Master,” Anakin pointed out, and Obi-Wan paused, maintaining eye-contact with him, relived to see that the blue irises he knew so well remained steady, even as the force around him did not.

He was well aware that he had let a fallen jedi free with no means of protecting himself.

“There’s been a lot of problems, between you and I,” he said, pushing past the memories that threatened to rise and bring the pain with them, “but I don’t think I’ll need it,” he finished softly.

Anakin seemed to be struggling with himself, and Obi-Wan was distressed to see Anakin’s eyes grow glassy, as he raised his hands and covered his face, trembling lightly,

“Force,” he said, letting out a laugh with no humour as he wiped his eyes, looking anywhere but Obi-Wan, “no, you won’t need it,” he took in a sharp breath, “but how can you trust me like this?” he asked, his eyes beseeching as he pushed himself up, Obi-Wan moving back to allow Anakin to climb unsteadily to his feet, resisting the urge to go and help him, as he used the bed to support his first steps,

“You are not bound to repeat your past, Anakin,” Obi-Wan stated, injecting some of the hope he had felt from their conversation that afternoon into his tone, watching as Anakin turned away,

“I could stop your heart, here, right now,” Anakin said, his eyes unreadable as the force rose and fell around them.

Fear lanced through Obi-Wan, but he pushed it aside,

“You won’t,” he replied calmly, and felt the frustration from Anakin as he walked away from the bed and Obi-Wan, running his left hand through his hair, the brown looking almost golden in the white light.

“We stopped communicating,” Obi-Wan said, moving a few steps forward so that he was standing in front of Anakin, looking up at the taller man, “we stopped talking about the important things, Anakin,” he continued, his voice serious, “I let it happen too, I never approached you, told you I was worried. The council just thought you’d work it out on your own,” Obi-Wan grimaced, “we let Palpatine tighten his grip on you without even thinking twice about _why_ a galaxy leader would be so interested in a padawan learner,” Anakin folded his arms across his chest, the name of his would-be master stirring his emotions up further, a shadow in the force around them.

Obi-Wan sighed, then, reaching up to lay a gentle hand on Anakin’s neck, his thumb brushing his jaw, and the younger jedi’s eyes fell closed at his touch, seeming to sway closer to him,

“Whatever has happened in the past is not just your fault,” Obi-Wan stated quietly, and Anakin did move forward then, reaching out and pulling him into a hug, which Obi-Wan returned gladly as he felt wetness on shoulder, Anakin’s tears silent but for the pain he projected through Obi-Wan’s weak shield.

A shield that, this physically close to the other half of the bond, slipped, and Obi-Wan didn’t think twice as he let it dissolve.

He simply hugged Anakin back and opened the bond fully.

A torrent of emotion washed over him; if he had not been holding Anakin he might have stepped away. As it was, he simply tightened his grip as love, grief, fear, loss and happiness hit him, not trying to fight it, but simply standing as a wall upon which it could break, an outlet for the suffering that had hounded them both.

Reunited both physically and mentally, Obi-Wan felt like he could stay here forever. It was an oasis in the desert, a feast for starving men. Words could not encapsulate that moment, there, when Anakin finally accepted the forgiveness Obi-Wan offered freely.

As the tears subsided and Anakin went still and pliant in his embrace, he gently untangled himself, and reached out before the younger man could hide his face, wiping the tears away. The bond sang as his fingers brushed Anakin’s cheek and it was a gargantuan effort to let go, and physically distance himself once more, leaving the bond open,

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked, and Anakin nodded wordlessly, looking around for shoes. Spotting them in the corner, he walked over and pulled them on over his pants, the black leather an odd combination with the soft white cotton, further contrasted when Anakin pulled his robe on as well, always effected by the cold, no matter where they were.

Obi-Wan led them out of the isolation chamber, and then into the corridor, their footsteps falling into sync as Anakin walked on Obi-Wan’s right, allowing him to lead. Their pace was slow, Obi-Wan letting Anakin take in his surroundings, while also allowing the turbulent emotions running through them to settle once more.

They had wandered past the mess, and the corridor that led to the bedrooms, when Anakin took a louder breath,

“Can…can I ask about…Padmé?” he asked hesitantly, Obi-Wan feeling the younger man’s gaze on him,

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied, as they continued down the exit corridor and towards the door leading outside,

“Were…” Anakin faded off, grief and guilt rising in him once more.

Obi-Wan did not press his former padawan, but instead entered the code for the door, the metal releasing with a hiss and the cold wind hitting them head on. Unsure why his feet had led them outside, Obi-Wan still followed the urge that called him away from the cruiser, and stepped out of the door, pulling the coat he had on tighter around himself.

Next to him, he felt Anakin shiver, the thinner robe not doing much against the low temperature,

“Were you with her?” the younger man finally managed to ask, the wind whistling in the trees around them as they moved forward,

“Till the very end,” Obi-Wan replied, finding the path up to the temple with some difficulty in the low light of night, the moon hidden behind a cloud, but trusting in the force to warn him if he missed a step.

He felt relief from Anakin, as he absorbed the information,

“And you saw…you saw the children born? She wasn’t alone?” Anakin’s voice was quiet, but Obi-Wan heard him over the cracking of branches and creaking of wood all the same, the forest alive around them. As they crested the incline, the temple came into view, and Obi-Wan hurried to open the door, holding it so Anakin could walk in, letting it close behind them with a bang, the noise from outside decreasing drastically.

The temple was very dark, and they remained standing in the entrance hall for a moment, the force hanging around them in its strange welcome,

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered to the darkness, reaching out until he had found Anakin’s wrist, the fallen jedi starting at the touch, “she named them, before she passed,” he continued, reaching out to the force that flowed freely in the temple, and leading Anakin towards the stairs, the sounds they were making louder without the input from their visual systems, using the force to guide their steps,

Anakin followed compliantly, “what are their names?” he asked softly as they ascended, Obi-Wan finally deciding to head for the top floor, where Breha had told him an observation platform sat,

“Luke and Leia Skywalker,” Obi-Wan replied, his left hip reminding him that he was going to feel some pain tomorrow if he didn’t stop, but he ignored it as Anakin’s hand twisted in the hold he had on it, to fully grasp his forearm in the dark, regret mixing with the happiness in the bond,

“We had talked about those names,” he said, his voice full of emotion, his breaths harsher in the darkness, “I had hoped for a little girl, actually. That she would be like her mother,”

Obi-Wan felt his own throat close at the thought of what should have been – Anakin and Padmé standing together on the senator’s balcony in Coruscant, holding their children, happy. 

At last, the stairs levelled out and shapes came into focus in the dim light of the far-away moon that orbited Razonai, pouring in through the balcony that sat at the end of the corridor. Obi-Wan let go of Anakin’s wrist even as the bond suggested he maintain contact, leading Anakin over the fallen pieces of stone, crumbled furniture, and tattered carpet.

The balcony came into clearer focus then, jutting out of the back of the temple, the opposite direction to where the cruiser lay. Doors had once closed it off, but they lay on the floor, long fallen. Outside and below them, the forest lay as a dark carpet, broken here and there by rivers and clearings. Above them, the sky stretched away, a deep blue dotted with sparkling diamonds – stars and systems that they had most probably travelled to over the course of their relatively short careers.

Two stone chairs sat off to the right of the doors, and the whole balcony was moderately protected from the wind and elements by the stone walls and the roof, green moss and creepers moving in from the open end, softening the hard lines of the walls.

Obi-Wan sat down in one chair while Anakin dropped into the other, both of them angled towards each other and facing outwards, overlooking the beautiful planet around them, the sound of the wind softer up here, the cold slightly less biting.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, his white clothes in stark contrast to the darkness of the robes and his hair, his expression pensive,

“You both deserved better,” Obi-Wan said, drawing the young man’s eyes to his,

“She deserved the world,” Anakin said, looking down so his hair fell over his face, “instead she got me,” and Obi-Wan moved instinctually, his hand coming to rest on Anakin’s upper arm, the metal limb and robe cold under his touch,

“She loved you, and you loved her. That was enough,” he replied, and Anakin’s eyes fell closed again, the bond filled with aching loss.

They sat like that for many minutes more, Obi-Wan reaching out through the bond, Anakin taking what comfort was offered.

 _Thank you,_ Anakin said, filling the words with his affection, his fondness, and Obi-Wan smiled.

The wind whistled through the temple around them, and somewhere a night creature called out through the forest, it’s voice like a deep bass drum in the night.

“This might not be how you feel, but we are also very lucky, Anakin,” he said in the quiet, and felt Anakin’s force signature settle, the grief and loss subsiding as he brought the fallen jedi’s attention back to the present,

“How so?” he asked,

“We have a chance to win back everything we fought for,” Obi-Wan replied and felt Anakin’s doubt,

“There’s so few of us left, and I don’t know about this ‘we’ you speak of. No-one is going to just welcome me back,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest, his old defence when he felt isolated or cornered.

Obi-Wan tilted his head to the side, “I trust you. The others will come to trust you,” he stated.

Anakin shook his head as a ghost of a smile touched his lips, “You are the kindest jedi in the temple, Master,” he replied with sincerity, looking back to Obi-Wan, “your standards for forgiveness are not the usual,” Obi-Wan frowned, “nor do I deserve it,”

“To move forward we must stand together,” the older jedi countered, “they know that and they’ll come around,” Obi-Wan shifted so that he was leaning over the stone armrest, moving closer to Anakin, “and you must not give up hope,” he added, his tone pleading as Anakin sighed,

“It’s difficult,” he responded, his words slower than usual, “the darkness, Obi-Wan, it just, _sits_ in you…it’s always there, and it’s so easy,” his expression darkened, “it’s so easy to take the power it’s offering,”

“But you haven’t,” Obi-Wan replied immediately, “you haven’t taken it since the first time, and I have faith you won’t take it again,”

Anakin let out a low noise then, a mix of frustration and something else, running his left hand through his hair once more and messing up the locks, turning so that he was also leaning towards Obi-Wan over the armrest,

“You…you might have forgiven me,” he said, gaze moving over Obi-Wan’s face as though he was trying to memorise it, “but I don’t think I can ever forgive myself,” he exhaled, the quiet admission nearly taken by the strong wind that rushed through the balcony.

Anakin’s face was near to him, now, and he hated to see the sadness in his eyes, “then my forgiveness will have to do,” Obi-Wan said, gently tightening the grip he had on Anakin’s arm, “I will be here for you, I will not turn away from you again,”

The corner of Anakin’s mouth moved upwards, and he lay his ungloved hand over Obi-Wan’s.

Several things seemed to happen at once then.

The first thing that Obi-Wan noticed was that the sensory information seemed amplified, taking in Anakin’s warm palm and calloused fingers, and then all other thoughts flew out the window and his world tilted on its axis, as the bond exploded in a wave of pleasure where it had previously sat quiet. It roared its approval, inviting them both to dive deeper, to strengthen the bond by intertwining their signatures, as the power surged through them both – neither dark nor light, but simply the force in its purest form.

Obi-Wan teetered and nearly gave in, as the want spread through him, before he managed to get a hold of himself and withdraw from the precipice. The grip on his hand tightened as his eyes opened and locked onto Anakin’s, Obi-Wan not remembering closing his own in the first place. They shared a charged look for a moment more, Anakin’s blue irises almost black in the low light, before Obi-Wan managed to throw a thin shield up, mentally drawing away, 

“Anakin,” he breathed shakily, half warning, half fond exasperation, his head falling forward as he took erratic, deep breaths, battling against the temptation of the bond,

“Don’t shield,” Anakin murmured, a note of longing in his voice, his grip almost too hot, “this feels right, Obi-Wan,” he whispered, keeping his hand over the older jedi’s, their hearts beating in synchrony as the bond purred and the force was pulled around both of them, 

“That’s why it’s dangerous,” Obi-Wan responded, looking back up through the hair that had fallen over his face as Anakin frowned,

“Everything written in the ancient jedi texts is not true, Master,” he said, and Obi-Wan felt another tremor at his shields, unsure if it was from Anakin, or the bond, or his own mind.

Deciding that enough was enough, though it was the very last thing he wanted, Obi-Wan exerted what was left of his willpower and took his hand back, the insistent pull from the bond dissipating as physical contact was broken.

For a few moments more both simply existed, Obi-Wan forcing himself to move back into his own chair, away from Anakin, even as a cold emptiness settled in his chest, loneliness replacing the fire of Anakin’s spirit,

“These bonds are forbidden by the sith and jedi both, Anakin” Obi-Wan panted, looking past Anakin’s shoulder and out at the clouds that skimmed the dark sky, as his breathing pattern returned to normal,

“Then why did you create it in the first place?” Anakin bit back, his voice hard as the withdrawal no doubt hit him too, bitterness in his tone.

Obi-Wan focused back on the younger man, “because if the choice was succumbing to madness or your death, I’d chose the former,” he said, the confession out of him before he thought about it, surprising himself just as much as it did Anakin, shock written on the other’s face.

He hadn’t even told Master Yoda that much when the grandmaster had asked him his reasons for creating the bond. Looking at Anakin now though, he meant it. He had lost so much already, every person he loved had died in his arms.

Anakin was not going to join that list. 

The words seemed to further irritate Anakin however, as he drew away then, “My life shouldn’t be more important than yours,” he said, “you never should have done it,” anger colouring his words now, the force darkening around him, his mood as labile as ever,

“And why not?” Obi-Wan shot back, some of his own anger coming back, at the implication behind Anakin’s words,

“Because I am worthless!” Anakin cried, getting to his feet and moving away from the chairs, his silhouette a rigid figure against the night sky as he walked away from Obi-Wan and to the edge of the platform, his hands folded behind his back in a military stance.

Getting to his feet also, Obi-Wan followed him, stopping just behind his right shoulder,

“You are not,” he asserted, quietly,

“I dirty everything I touch! I destroy anything given to me,” Anakin spat, his voice hard as he looked outwards, “I married Padmé and she was doomed to a husband she almost never saw. She had our children and I wasn’t there; I didn’t even know! I tried to die and instead bound you to me, and cursed you with my failings,” his words were coated with acid, aimed at himself, and Obi-Wan felt like reaching out and shaking him,

“You give yourself too much credit,” he sniped, injecting some of his old sarcasm into the words, and Anakin turned to look over his shoulder as the wind caught his robes and his hair, looking like a vengeful figure of legend in the darkness of the night. He turned and stalked back to Obi-Wan, the master jedi feeling the hair on the back on his neck stand, even as he refused to step away from the prowling figure,

“I have fallen, Obi-Wan. You should have let me die,” he growled, tilting his head to the side, looking down at the older man,

“You will rise again,” Obi-Wan shot back, Anakin too close, his familiar eyes too intense, the bond turbulent with his wrath,

“You trust me too easily,” Anakin said again, coming still closer, Obi-Wan’s heart stuttering in his chest as the younger man’s breath brushed his face,

“Yeah he does, the idiot,” a voice cut in, deep, loud, and from behind them.

Obi-Wan jumped back from Anakin as if he were burned, spinning rather inelegantly on the spot to see Quinlan, standing in the ruined doorway behind them, fully armoured and armed, as he glared at Anakin over Obi-Wan’s shoulder,

“Quin?’ he asked, surprised, trying to find his equilibrium even as Anakin made to move forward. Obi-Wan threw his hand out to stop him, his palm lying flat on Anakin’s chest, as he glanced between the Kiffar and his former padawan. There was a new tension in the air, different from the one just seconds ago, and it set his teeth on edge, so he held out his other hand in front of him, towards Quinlan,

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a measured tone,

“Making sure you don’t fall on your own noble blade,” Quinlan said, walking forward to lean his hip against one of the stone chairs,

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anakin growled from behind him and Obi-Wan increased the pressure on the younger man’s chest, forcing him a step backwards,

“It means, Skywalker, I don’t like you,” Quinlan replied, his hand coming to rest on his utility belt where the metal of his sabre caught the light of the moon as it moved out from behind a cloud,

“Quin,” Obi-Wan said, a warning in his tone, and the Kiffar shifted his gaze onto him.

The moment stretched, the three of them caught in it, as the clouds moved and darkened the temple once more while the drum beat calls of the night creatures echoed through the forests.

Quinlan sighed then, the fight going out of his posture as he lifted his hand off the sabre. Likewise, Anakin’s force signature settled to a low boil rather than a raging storm, and Obi-Wan let his hand drop off his chest,

“It’s been two hours since you left, Obi, I wasn’t going to just lie there waiting for you to come back,” he said, moving forward, as Anakin bristled behind Obi-Wan,

“So you _are_ sharing a bed?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan turned to look at him, at odd note in his former padawan’s voice, but the light too low to see much of his face with his back to the sky,

“What’s it to you, Skywalker?” Quin asked, “and why in the sith hells did you come up here, Obi?” he asked, turning an irritated gaze onto the older human.

Obi-Wan found he did not quite have an answer, “It...felt right,” he said instead, and Quinlan rolled his eyes,

“Well next time it feels right, maybe wander a little closer to home,”

“What did you _want_ , Vos?” Anakin asked, his voice barely controlled,

“I want to take Obi-Wan back to the cruiser, and I want you to go away, but I’m used to not getting all I desire,” Quinlan replied, glaring at the younger human,

“Quin,” Obi-Wan said, a reprimand in his tone as he turned to look back at Anakin, whose fists were clenched at his sides, then at Quinlan, realising that the Kiffar actually had a point.

What _had_ his plan been when he had uncuffed Anakin? What had possessed him to bring Anakin up to the highest level of the temple? Where exactly was Anakin supposed to go now? Looking at the situation as it was, Obi-Wan could see quite clearly that it had been foolish to leave the cruiser, and more foolish still to bring Anakin to a powerful source of the force.

Next to him, Quinlan sighed, as if realising his train of thought,

“If Skywalker promises to shut his mouth and stay quiet, he can stay with us, but you’ve got to come back with me now, there’s a storm brewing” he said, looking at Obi-Wan, who smiled gratefully at the Kiffar,

“I think he can manage that,” he replied, and he felt more than saw Anakin’s anger recede, as the younger man fixed his gaze on Obi-Wan,

“Just like that?’ Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan nodded,

“Just like that.”

The three of them turned and left then, as the first raindrops hit the stone balcony and the wind picked up speed.

Obi-Wan was irritated to note that Quinlan had deemed it essential to place a hand on his back as if he couldn’t find his own way around, and was equally irritated that the anger returned to Anakin’s signature, though what could be causing it this time, he wasn’t sure. 

It was drizzling in earnest by the time they made it back down the stairs, Quinlan having the forethought to bring a torch so they could see where they were going. Walking quickly out the temple doors, they hurried back down the hill towards the cruiser, the wind somehow getting around the thick coat Obi-Wan was wearing, and the water making the mud paths slippery. 

Finally, they entered the ship with grateful sighs, Quinlan leading the way, “who’s with the babies?” Obi-Wan asked, suddenly remembering them. Behind him, Anakin lost his footing, and Obi-Wan reached out to steady him,

“I woke up because of them, put them to sleep and then came to find you when I realised how long you’d been gone,” Quinlan said, glancing over his shoulder as they rounded the corner and made for their quarters, “I’ve only left them for around fifteen minutes.”

Obi-Wan sighed in relief as they entered the warm room, shrugging out of his coat as he walked in, kicking his boots off by the fresher, as Quinlan removed his own pair by the door and walked over to the bed.

Obi-Wan hung his coat up in the closet, and turned around to see Anakin standing awkwardly in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the crib,

“Come in, Anakin,” Obi-wan said softly, as Quinlan settled himself under the blankets, Obi-Wan noticing as he placed his sabre beneath his pillow, well within reach.

Maybe Quinlan was right to be so cautious, but Obi-Wan still felt no danger or warnings in the force despite the roiling emotions within Anakin. 

Anakin entered slowly, the door swishing closed behind him, and Obi-Wan walked over to where the infants lay, motioning for Anakin to join him.

The fallen jedi did so, and Obi-Wan smiled as Anakin lay eyes on his children for the first time, his expression going lax. Leia had managed to get a hand outside the blanket, and Obi-Wan reached down to cover her up again, running an affectionate hand over her head.

Next to him, Anakin was nothing short of captivated, as he looked upon them, “They’re so small,” he said, truly smiling for the first time all night, glancing up at Obi-Wan and the older jedi chuckled,

“They’re actually bigger than when they were born,” he said, running the back of his finger gently along Luke’s cheek, the baby turning his head towards it in response,

“They’re beautiful,” Anakin murmured, but he stepped away from the crib as darkness clouded his force-signature again. Obi-Wan watched in concern as his smile faded, and he walked away, Leia and Luke both shifting uneasily. Reaching out to the infants, he placed one hand on each of them, sending calming waves in the force, and both settled again. Once certain they were going to stay asleep, Obi-Wan turned and saw that Anakin had gone to the desk, leaning over it with his back to the room. 

Glancing at Quinlan, who had reburied himself in the sheets, Obi-Wan walked around the bed, unable to resist laying a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his muscles tensing then relaxing beneath the dark robe,

“Anakin?” he whispered, and felt a tremor run through the younger jedi,

“I…am...corrupted,” Anakin whispered back, “I don’t think I could bear to touch them,”

Obi-Wan felt a wave of sorrow again, then, for a father scared to approach his own children,

“That you fear means you are already better than you were, Anakin,” he responded, and Anakin raised his head, a faint hope in his eyes even as the turmoil in his signature reached across Obi-Wan’s shields.

Grasping him by the forearm, Obi-Wan led him to the couch, “Sit,” he said, and Anakin complied. Obi-Wan walked over to the closet, and opened one of the draws, pulling out a spare pillow and two extra blankets. Walking back to the couch, he put the pillow at one end, handing Anakin one blanket as he opened his own, spreading it out on the floor between the lounge and the coffee table,

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, as Obi-Wan lowered himself to the floor to sit on top of it, folding his legs under him in the classic meditation pose,

“We are slow this evening, aren’t we?” Obi-Wan whispered back, trying to send some calm over the bond, and closing his eyes.

Apparently, it worked.

Above him, he heard Anakin move, sliding down the couch so that he was directly in front of Obi-Wan, before falling still. That stillness seemed to spread around them, as Anakin’s signature continued to relax, and Obi-Wan felt their breaths falling into a similar pattern.

The sound of rain hitting metal drifted over to them, the recyclers and the floor warmers electronic whirring adding to the background noise. The lights turned off above them with a soft click, as all movement within the cabin was stilled. Obi-Wan felt himself drifting pleasantly, and shifted so that he was lying down, Anakin mirroring his actions above him on the couch, the other side of the bond glowing brighter with his calm.

Something soft touched his face, and he opened his eyes to see a couch cushion, Anakin lying on the pillow, his gaze fixed on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan reached up and took it, placing it under his head, looking back at his former padawan,

“Thank you,” Anakin said aloud, projecting gratefulness, and Obi-Wan smiled, before allowing his eyes to close again, and sleep to take him. 

* * *

A baby’s cry woke him up, in what was beginning to become a familiar routine, and for a moment Obi-Wan wondered why the bed was so hard underneath him.

Yawning, Obi-Wan looked to his right to find Anakin asleep on the couch, covered with his blanket and undisturbed, the joint meditation and the peace it had brought them still hanging in the bond. Getting to his feet, the overhead lights flickered onto their lowest setting, triggered by his movement, as he padded softly over to the crib.

Quinlan was also stirring in bed, as a second cry joined in, but Obi-Wan reached out and patted him on the arm, whispering that he had it as he turned to the babies.

After a quick feed for both Luke and Leia, and much walking about and shushing on his part, Obi-Wan managed to get both the twins to fall asleep and placed them back into their bed, Anakin still undisturbed. Perhaps the time he and Quinlan had spent with the infants made them both more sensitive to their cries, or maybe the exhaustion that had been written on Anakin’s face had finally got to him.

Sleep weighing him down too, Obi-Wan stumbled over to the bed and crawled under the sheets, relaxing in the warmth from Quinlan’s body heat, and turning the light off with the force as he sank into slumber. 

* * *

Dawn had come much too soon for Obi-Wan, woken by Master Yoda, who had entered the room and surveyed the evidence of last night’s adventure with his calculating gaze, as Obi-Wan and Quinlan had gotten out of bed, Anakin continuing to sleep peacefully.

The grandmaster hadn’t said anything as Obi-Wan had followed him out of the room, and now, sitting in joint meditation, Obi-Wan was glad he had this time to speak with him.

He had told him everything, about the potency of the bond, the rather questionable decisions he had made last night – possibly under its influence - and also how he genuinely believed that Anakin was already closer to the light than he had been. Yoda listened to everything without judgement, and then examined the bond once more, Obi-Wan drifting pleasantly as Yoda’s gentle light hovered around his own force signature, Anakin’s side more serene than it had ever been.

The grandmaster had deemed that the bond was still stable, and unchanged, and that it was their emotions, or perhaps physical touch that made it more difficult to control. Obi-Wan had tried his hardest not to flush at the memory of the pleasure the bond had generated, but it was hard under Yoda’s clinical gaze, the grandmaster seeing everything.

Yoda had simply hummed and moved on when Obi-Wan didn’t have a detailed reply to his further probing about what emotions the bond had triggered and suggested that meditation might bring more clarity.

Unfortunately, given how little sleep he had gotten last night, Obi-Wan came close to simply nodding off rather than doing any great introspection.

“Distracted you are,” Master Yoda said, finally, the sun well risen now, Yoda’s suite having a much larger viewport through which they were bathed in the morning rays,

“Yes Master,” Obi-Wan said,

“Understandable that is. Difficult conversations with young Skywalker you had. Well, you did.” Obi-Wan frowned, unfolding his legs and stretching forward,

“I don’t think I achieved anything, honestly,” he said, looking at Yoda,

“Trust in time is built, begin on the right ground you did,” Yoda replied, getting to his feet. Obi-Wan stood up too,

“Should we inform the council about Anakin?” he asked, and Yoda nodded,

“Yes, if he integrated back with us to be, accepted by all the masters he must also be. Gather before your departure we shall. To teach the younglings go you now must,” Obi-Wan nodded and followed the grandmaster out.

Though he was looking forward to teaching, the thought of having to explain to an angry council just _how_ he knew that Anakin was ready for rehabilitation was not a pleasant one.

* * *

Anakin woke slowly, the world coming to him in bit and pieces. He was comfortable, warm, not handcuffed anymore, and covered in a blanket, Obi-Wan’s smile the last thing he remembered seeing before falling asleep. 

Other memories of the previous evening replayed in his mind unbidden – Obi-Wan at the centre of them all.

His old master, with his arms around him, forgiveness and acceptance accompanying the gesture even though Anakin knew he didn’t deserve it. He remembered his own fury at the casual disregard Obi-Wan had for his own life, his fury at the existence of the bond that sealed Obi-Wan to him and all his terrible decisions, even as he himself craved every part of the very thing. Instinctively, he reached up to check it.

It was still shielded on Obi-Wan’s side.

Anakin knew Obi-Wan was right, and that over-reliance on the bond was unhealthy. He couldn’t bring himself to block it, however, needing the reassuring touch of light and life every time he reached for it.

He didn’t remember any bad dreams today either. Perhaps he had a dreamless sleep. An amazing thing, given that he had thought the innocent faces of his children, gently looked upon by Obi-Wan, affection in his gaze and gestures, would feature rather prominently in his nightmares.

All three were living reminders of how far he was from the grace that Obi-Wan possessed in spades.

As a rustle sounded behind him, Anakin opened his eyes, the strip lights bright above him, and the warm yellow glow of sunshine lighting the room up. He was still lying on the couch, but both the blanket on the floor and Obi-Wan were gone. 

Sitting up, Anakin looked over to the bed, his hackles rising as Quinlan Vos glanced up at him from the datapad he was reading, lounging in tunic, tabards and armour on the bed, in his other hand holding a half-eaten Naboo pear,

“Morning, Skywalker. Graced us with your presence, have you?” he asked, his tone cool, turning his attention back to the datapad.

Anakin resisted the urge to force throw the pad into his face,

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” he asked instead, getting to his feet,

“Teaching with Master Drallig,” the Kiffar replied, not looking up, “you’re confined to these quarters until the council meeting,” he added, and Anakin sighed, expecting as much.

In the light of day, the anger that had been simmering under his skin seemed harder to reach, especially as he could still smell the sandalwood scent that seemed to follow Obi-Wan around everywhere, and feel his signature all around the room.

As far as prisons went, this wasn’t the worst.

“So Cin survived did he?” Anakin asked, and tried not to enjoy the obvious annoyance the question raised in the Kiffar, if only for Obi-Wan’s sake,

“Yes,” he answered back shortly.

Anakin’s eyes turned towards the crib then, a feeling of trepidation rising up in him. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the children. He wanted to keep them safe.

Following his gaze Quinlan sighed and said, “and because of you, Luke and Leia are with the Organas, so don’t go asking to see them,”

Anakin didn’t respond, a feeling of relief running through him as he made for the fresher.

He showered with real water, always amazed at how _much_ water people had access to, the resource so precious and scarce on Tatooine that to this day, a part of Anakin always felt guilty when he watched litres of it go down the drain, even if most of him luxuriated in the feel of water over his body.

Finishing up, Anakin stepped out and got dressed quickly, wishing he had thought to put his own pants and tunic on before leaving the medbay.

As he exited, he felt the bond jump, and then Obi-Wan entered the room, sweaty and covered in mud, bringing in the smell of a rainstorm though it was bright outside,

“What happened to you?” Vos asked, his welcoming expression and amused tone a far cry from the wooden tolerance he had aimed at Anakin,

“Oh, the initiates are coming along marvellously!” Obi-Wan replied, reaching down to pull his muddy boots off, “as a reward I let them ‘defeat’ me in an epic duel,” he chuckled, genuine happiness coming through the bond, “so naturally, they ‘battled’ me into one of the puddles from last night’s rain, excellent teamwork and communication on their part, I must say,” his gaze turned to the fresher, where Anakin stood,

“Oh Anakin, you’re awake!” he said, smiling, “you look much better,”

Anakin finally registered he was openly staring, and moved away from the door, back towards the couch, as Obi-Wan’s smile dimmed slightly in response to his silence.

Hating that he was the cause of it, Anakin said the first thing that came to mind, “The water is nice,” he stated, feeling stupid even as he said it, but Obi-Wan’s smile was back,

“I tell you; I would have joined the separatists if only for the better accommodations,” Obi-Wan called over his shoulder as he walked over to the closet,

“Nah, you’re too picky, they’d have thrown you out the minute they heard you don’t drink anything other than three specific brands of tea,” Vos called back, and Anakin tried not to growl aloud as Obi-Wan laughed in reply, as if that were even a little bit funny,

“True, but I do think Grievous appreciated tea as much as I did,” he shot back, grabbing a fresh towel,

“When you start talking about that bastard fondly, you know you’ve lost the argument,” Vos responded.

Obi-Wan snorted, “Yes, I suppose you’ve got a point,” he turned back to Anakin, “you should eat something, there are Naboo pears in the preserver,” he said, pointing to the kitchenette.

Nodding, Anakin made his way over as Obi-Wan walked into the fresher and the brightness of the room seemed to dim with his absence, Anakin suppressing the urge to use the bond, to ask for connection once again.

Anakin grabbed a pear and made his way back to the couch, turning the holo screen on with nothing better to do, even as he felt Vos’ glare directed at his head. A famous action thriller was playing but Anakin felt his thoughts drift, the story on the screen going straight over his head.

Instead he thought back to the balcony last night, the power that had surged through them when he had held Obi-Wan’s hand. He thought of the aching loneliness that followed when Obi-Wan withdrew, and then the anger that had gripped him. He had wanted to reach out to Obi-Wan as he had approached him, his master looking vulnerable, eyes wide with no defence – and do what? He still wasn’t sure. It seemed that no matter which end of the force he was with, Obi-Wan still had the ability to affect his thinking. 

The fresher door opened again, and Obi-Wan stepped back out wearing the same clothes that he had obviously run through the cleaner, the white tunic and tabard bright and perfectly ironed, his hair back to looking like it always did, 

“Take your time, princess, the council doesn’t mind waiting,” Vos said from behind and Anakin turned to watch the Kiffar put down the datapad and get out of bed, pulling on his boots,

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he tugged his own boots on, “I’m sure the droids would have a short-circuit at the amount of cleaning they'd had to do if I hadn’t taken my time,” he replied, looking back to Anakin, “will you be okay?” he asked, his tone softening, and Anakin nodded. With Vos watching him, he wasn’t about to admit any level of not-okay aloud,

“Quin, why don’t you head over, I’ll be right behind you,” Obi-Wan said, walking over to Vos and gently leading him to the door by his elbow, a sense of victory rising in Anakin as the Kiffar resisted,

“Go on,” Obi-wan said again, all but pushing him out the door.

Once it closed, Obi-Wan turned back to Anakin, the older jedi coming over to sit on the couch,

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked again, and Anakin was filled with affection for this man – this ridiculous, kind, trusting man,

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, shrugging,

“You have to stay in this room,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out to adjust the collar of Anakin’s robe, a move so domestic that Anakin nearly grabbed his hand, wanting to ask him to stay,

“I know,” he replied instead, resisting the urge. Obi-Wan’s gaze swept over his face,

“I won’t be long, and I know Master Yoda and Quin will be in favour of letting you re-join the building efforts, so when I’m off planet you won’t be stuck in a room,” Anakin laughed then, the idea of Vos doing anything in his favour unlikely. Though of course, Obi-Wan only ever thought the best of his friends,

“Sure,” Anakin said, instead and Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed,

“I don’t know what is going on between the two of you,” he said, “but you will work with him, won’t you?” he asked, and Anakin wanted to say no, wanted to tell Obi-Wan that he would throw Vos of the first cliff they walked past and not regret it, but then he felt the thrum of hope in the bond, Obi-Wan’s gaze fixed on his, and he hung his head,

“I will try,” he promised to Obi-Wan’s knees, knowing that he would, once again, only for Obi-Wan’s sake.

He felt Obi-Wan’s relief in the bond as he stood,

“Right, well, I’d rather not let Bail hear Quin call me princess,” Anakin looked up to see a half-smile on his master’s face, his own mouth curving upwards in response, unable to remain in a bad mood when Obi-Wan all but glowed in the force, “I’ll never hear the end of it,” he chuckled, and with that, Obi-Wan left, and the room seemed colder for it.

* * *

A stunned silence met Obi-Wan’s words, much as he had expected.

All the masters were sitting around the meeting table in the rec room, Yoda on his left, Quinlan on his right, and though these two were not surprised, Obi-Wan could sense some level of disquiet coming off Quinlan,

“You did _what_?” Cin asked, shaking his head as if to clear it,

“I took Anakin out of the force cuffs last night,” Obi-Wan repeated,

“Why?” Kom asked, sounding like he had never heard a more ludicrous idea,

“Because I know he’s recovering, and we have to give him a chance to do so,” Obi-Wan explained evenly, looking at each of the three masters in turn, Yoda humming aloud next to him,

“Rash your actions were,” Yoda said and Obi-Wan's gaze snapped around to him, betrayed,

“What-but- you-” he started, never in his life lacking eloquence but unable to believe that Yoda would change his tune now, and Yoda held up a hand,

“Rash, yes. Correct, also yes,” and at that all the other masters started talking at once,

“Correct? What is correct about letting a sith go free?” Zobon grumbled,

“What new madness is this, what good can come from it? He is fallen!” Cin exclaimed, glaring at Obi-Wan,

“Just listen-” Obi-Wan started but was cut off,

“He killed jedi!” Kom growled, throwing a data recorder onto the table, and before anyone could react, hitting the play button, a holorecording springing up in front of them.

Obi-Wan watched in growing horror as Anakin stalked through the temple, cutting down jedi with an ease he normally reserved for the droids, force throwing any who stood in his way through walls and windows. The scene changed, and showed Anakin in another corridor, pulling the walls down to bury a group of padawans who had followed him, sabres drawn, their cries muted but terror written on their faces. The scene changed again, windows behind Anakin this time, on what Obi-Wan recognised as the first floor, running a Rodian master through with his blade, and throwing his limp body through the windows, glass raining down about him.

“He killed our brothers and sisters,” Kom said again, looking at Obi-Wan, Quin leaning forward to turn the recorder off before it could go further, leaving a dead silence in the room, Obi-Wan’s chest tight.

He got to his feet with a sharp intake of breath, turning away from the table, his right hand covering his mouth as his eyes fell closed. He reached up to the bond, Anakin’s presence a comfort even as Obi-Wan struggled to reconcile himself to Anakin’s actions; the images of destruction and death burned on his eyelids.

“Footage from the temple is, retrieved it I did,” Yoda voice was sad, “terrible things has Skywalker done,”

Obi-Wan didn’t think that covered it.

A part of him had known that Anakin had to have killed jedi to have made it so deep into the temple, to be in that meeting room where Obi-Wan had found him.

To see it happen was too painful for words.

Quinlan spoke then, his deep voice filling the room, “the fallen ones kill jedi all the time,” he said, and Obi-Wan turned slowly, opening his eyes as he lowered his hand. Quinlan’s face was half hidden by his hair but the force around him was filled with pain, “I killed jedi,” he added, the mood in the room changing. Obi-Wan watched as Cin’s anger dimmed, and Kom sat back with a huff,

“The darkness takes you and twists you up until you can’t think of a reason not to kill, not to hate,” Quinlan continued, 

Obi-Wan walked back to the table, coming to stand by Quin’s left shoulder, “and we cannot hold the past against people,” he said, drawing everyone’s eyes back to him, “don’t you see?” he asked, pointing at the holoprojector, “that is a manifestation of how we _all_ failed, not just Anakin,” his voice broke on the name as he leant forward to grip the chair with both hands, willing the other masters to hear him,

“I know what he has done,” Obi-Wan stated firmly, looking around the circle, “I know because I felt that darkness within him and around him, and I-I feel it still,”

Cin’s eyes narrowed, “your training bond,” he said slowly, “it’s changed, hasn’t it?” he asked, ever astute, and Obi-Wan nodded, leaning further forward, looking down at the chair,

“I-we are connected. The darkness is there, but…” he looked up then, “there’s good in him too. If we lock him up, and leave him to suffer by himself are we any better than the sith?” Obi-Wan asked, shifting his gaze from one to the other, Quinlan’s eyes shadowed, Yoda’s knowing,

“Tell me, can we call ourselves the heroes, can we call ourselves _good_ if we abandon the people who lose their way?” he thumped his fist against the chair then, “I will not leave him. I will not abandon him – and call it attachment, call it whatever you want,” he added, daring them to speak up, “but it is not the jedi way to see a wrong that we committed and not make amends,”

More silence followed his words, as he focused on dispelling the anger that coursed through him, still too worked up to sit,

“Right Obi-Wan is,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan felt relief as the other master’s didn’t deny it, each seemingly lost in their thoughts,

“But how are we going to go about it?’ Quinlan asked, “I believe you, Obi,” he said, looking up, “but I also know how volatile he’s going to be,” Obi-Wan sighed then, acknowledging that the Kiffar had a point, and dropped back into his seat,

“He should not be near the Padawans,” Kom said, and Obi-Wan wanted to speak against it, but then he remembered Anakin, walking towards him last night with danger in his eyes, and said nothing,

“No, he shouldn’t,” Cin agreed, “perhaps there is work in the engine room or the kitchen?”

“Should we shackle his legs and hands together as well?” Obi-Wan asked, glaring at the older master, the thought of Anakin sitting in one place, trapped, sitting ill on his conscience,

“He is a criminal, so we could,” Cin snapped back,

“You told me you were worried for the children,” Obi-Wan bit out, controlling his irritation with difficulty,

“Yes, all the more reason to treat a criminal, like a criminal, even if you think he might be getting better,”

“Is that what you want them to see?” Obi-Wan said, leaning forward, unbelieving that a master could be so blind, “you talk of the old ways, and as part of that we always preached that we shouldn’t hold onto our emotions – yet you want to punish Anakin based on how you feel, not what he actually deserves,”

“If he goes unpunished, then we are telling the children it is okay to give in to their baser feelings!” Cin argued back, also leaning forward,

“You are telling them that we should exact vengeance!” Obi-Wan said, and it was only Quin’s hand on his shoulder that stopped him from reaching across the table,

“I am showing them justice, for the deaths we mourned! For the order we have lost!”

“He has suffered enough!” Obi-Wan yelled, getting to his feet and slamming his hand on the table, Quinlan also standing next to him, holding him back.

There was a ringing silence as Cin glared back at him, and he fought to bring his anger under control,

“Sit down you will, Obi-Wan,” Yoda commanded, and Obi-Wan felt a touch of shame as he complied, knowing that he had lost his temper but unable to regret it.

Zobon sighed, shaking his head, and patting Cin on the back as the battle master broke eye contact with Obi-Wan and sat back in his chair, also taking a deep breath,

“We have his lightsabre,” Zobon said, and Obi-Wan frowned, having not noticed that, “he is still very powerful in the force, so perhaps labour in the temple would be best to ensure he is active, outside, and still feels useful,” the Togruta shrugged, “This will be difficult. It is not easy to trust someone who has hurt us. But we must not fight,” he said, looking between Obi-Wan and Cin.

The battlemaster looked back up at Obi-Wan, “I…apologise,” he said, and Obi-Wan bit his lip, unsure if the apology was sincere, but finished with the argument, suddenly tired,

“I do too,” he said,

“What about his children? Where will he stay when he is not working? I do not think it wise to leave him unsupervised on a planet this strong with the force.” Kom said, and Yoda hummed again, 

“Luke and Leia with me shall stay,” Yoda said, as Quinlan frowned next to Obi-Wan, clearly not happy about losing time with them, “continue to lodge with Master Vos and Master Kenobi, shall Skywalker,” he said, nodding to the two of them, Obi-Wan sighing in relief, not wanting Anakin to be locked back into the isolation bay or whatever was left of the brig,

“There is great need for wood, Skywalker can help by chopping down trees, we can take turns in supervising him when he’s outside,” Zobon suggested,

“Good,” Master Yoda replied, moving to stand,

“All I’m asking is that you give him a chance,” Obi-Wan said then, before Yoda could dismiss them, “let him heal, help him when you can. He needs us,” The other masters mumbled their acceptance, and though Obi-Wan could hear their reluctance, he still felt a small amount of hope – a grudging reception was better than all out rejection,

“Very good, prepare to leave, you shall, Master Kenobi,” Yoda said,

“Truly, I hope the mission succeeds, and you come back safe,” Cin called out – a peace offering – from across the table, and Obi-Wan managed a courteous nod back,

“I hope so too,” he responded,

“May the force be with you,” Yoda said, words repeated around the circle, before the council meeting broke up.

Leading the way, Obi-Wan walked out of the rec room with a sense of lightness that he did not have when he came in,

“Well that went better than expected,” Quinlan said quietly, next to his ear, as they walked down the corridor. Obi-Wan let out a long breath,

“You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you?” he asked, and watched as many emotions flashed across Quinlan’s face,

“I will do my best,” he said finally, seeming to settle on resigned, as they emerged into the mess hall, the padawan’s and initiate’s voices and laughter loud as they gathered for their afternoon meal,

“Thank you, Quin,” Obi-Wan said, walking with the Kiffar to the pile of food sitting on various trays, some hot, some cold, droids offering to serve them, 

“Ah, who can resist those damsel-in-distress eyes?” Quinlan sighed, filling his plate with three different types of food as Obi-Wan glared at him.

“Oh good, you’re done!” Bail’s voice called from across the room, adding to the din of the mess hall, and Obi-Wan waved to acknowledge he had heard him, selecting a roll filled with meat and vegetables, though he could identify none of them.

Once he had a plate, he followed Quinlan across to Bail, who was waiting for them in the corridor that leads to their quarters, holding a bundle of black cloth and leather that Obi-Wan feared might be for him, 

“Are those Obi-Wan’s new clothes?” Quinlan asked, a smirk on his face as he took a bite of his food and Bail nodded, Obi-Wan ignoring them both with an air of long-suffering dignity as he led the way to their room.

The things he would do for the jedi order.

* * *

Anakin looked up from the patch of sunlight he had been staring at on the floor, as the door to the bedroom opened, and Obi-Wan, Vos, Bail and Breha entered.

Anakin, who was sitting on a blanket as he attempted the meditate, raised a hand in welcome,

“Hello Anakin!” Obi-Wan called, walking to the kitchenette to place his plate down, “did you eat something?” he asked, as Vos and Bail laughed over a joke and Breha took the black cloth and leather items from her husband, spreading them out on the bed,

“No,” he replied, getting to his feet, the sudden influx of sound in the room loud after an hour of silence. He wondered what the outcome of the meeting was, but Obi-Wan seemed happy, and he didn’t want to spoil that by asking in case it was bad news. His watched as his master tore the roll in half, and then walked over to the cabinets above the sink, taking a plate out, turning back to him,

“Here,” Obi-Wan said, handing Anakin half of his roll and Anakin pushed it back,

“You’re going on a mission, you need food,” he said, and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“And you haven’t had anything but a pear,”

He pushed the plate forward again and Anakin took it, as Vos walked over to Breha,

“You better go put these on,” Vos said, a note of glee in his voice, even as Obi-Wan gave him a look that used to send Anakin running in the opposite direction when he was younger. Now it only served to increase the heartache, as he realised it had been too long since he had simply existed in Obi-Wan’s presence, not thinking or planning or plotting, with all the secrets and lies he had to balance,

“Come on, Obi-Wan,” Breha said, picking up what looked like a long-sleeved top and pants, coupled with soft black leather boots,

“What are those for?” Anakin asked, sitting down at the table as Obi-Wan walked over to the bed, took the garments, and then walked into the fresher, the door closing behind him.

“Obi-Wan’s disguise,” Bail said, glancing over to him, Anakin surprised to see nothing but the usual regard in his eyes,

“Disguise?” Anakin asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich,

“Yes, our esteemed Master Kenobi will have to lower himself to dress as a bounty hunter, so we can get over to Serenno and gather information and supplies,” Vos answered, though he didn’t look over, distracted as he was with the other pieces on the bed – a leather satchel, a brown leather blaster holster, a black belt and a soft material that looked like a bandana,

“We’ll be going too, Master Skywalker, and may not see you for a while,” Breha said, a smile on her face, and Anakin responded with a nod,

“May the force be with you,” he replied, Bail also smiling over at him, as he and Breha sat down on the bed, in front of Vos.

The couple started a low conversation between themselves, and Vos didn’t look at him, so Anakin continued eating, grateful for real food, Obi-Wan’s presence in the room bringing a sense of home that he hadn’t felt when Obi-Wan had left.

Finally, as Anakin finished his half of the sandwich, the fresher door opened.

Anakin looked up, only to find himself staring again, as Breha called out, Bail laughed and Vos said, “Damn.”

Obi-Wan was standing, framed by the fresher door, wearing a set of black garments.

The chest piece was made of cotton that clung to his body, highlighting his narrow waist and lean muscles, and had over the shoulders, heavily padded leather acting as shoulder guards, with leather sleeves that wrapped around the upper arm and finished at his elbow, giving the impression of light armour, the stiff, square collar finishing higher on his neck than his jedi robes normally did. The black pants were also the same tight cotton from the waist down, with leather wrapped around the lower thighs and knees. The black boots came up to where the leather of the pants stopped, and the overall effect, when Anakin finally brought his eyes back up to Obi-Wan’s steadily reddening face, was enough to make Anakin’s mouth go dry.

He had always wondered what Obi-Wan would like in darker colours.

Now he knew.

“I look ridiculous,” Obi-Wan said finally, walking forward in a huff,

“That’s certainly one way of looking at it,” Vos muttered and suddenly Anakin agreed. He did look ridiculous, and far too many people were watching him,

“It will look better with this,” Anakin said, taking his robe off, and walking over to Obi-Wan, feeling irrationally better once the robe enveloped him as he placed it onto his shoulders, as Obi-Wan glanced back at him in surprise, “it’s not brown,” Anakin said, trying to explain so Obi-Wan would remain covered, as the older Jedi ran his fingers over the material, “it won’t attract attention,” he continued,

“I got to admit, the robe finishes it off nicely,” Breha said from behind Obi-Wan and Anakin relaxed, grateful that his behaviour wasn’t considered odd. Vos cleared his throat,

“Here’s the holster and the belt,” he said, and Obi-Wan secured them around his waist, his pale skin contrasting beautifully with the darker colours, his hair more golden than brown against the black hood of the robe.

Anakin moved away as Obi-Wan slid the robe off his shoulders to sling the satchel on across his body, before he picked the robe up again, and put his arms into the sleeves, looking at once foreign and familiar to Anakin, as his gaze settled back on him,

“We’ll go get the shuttle ready,” Bail said, “good luck to all of you,” he added, looking between Vos and Anakin, the Kiffar smiling back and throwing a playful arm around Bail’s shoulders, and then Breha’s, 

“Oh, we’re gonna need it,” he replied as they walked out and Breha shook her head at his antics. 

The quiet was welcome, and Anakin turned his gaze back onto Obi-Wan to find him looking back at him, his eyes very blue in the bright afternoon sun,

“You’ve been granted your freedom,” he said, a smile on his lips, “you can’t teach, or hold your lightsabre yet, but if you’re willing, there’s work that needs doing, to help get us set up here,”

Anakin absorbed this with a sense of rising hope, “they’re not going to lock me up?” he queried,

“No,” Obi-Wan said, coming closer, “it’s not all trust and sunshine, but they’re going to try and move past what happened Anakin,” he pushed his hair off his face, the bond vibrating between them, at their proximity, at the peace coming off the older jedi,

“Promise me, you’ll try as well?”

Anakin nodded, “Yes, I promise,”

“Will you go see Master Yoda, talk to him?” Obi-Wan asked then, his tone careful, as though he didn’t want to push the wrong button.

And Anakin understood why, he knew his emotions had been flying all over the place recently, but he still hated that he had ever caused such uncertainty between them in the first place, hated that they didn’t know the limits of their relationship anymore,

“Yes,” he answered, his voice a little hoarse, as he studied Obi-Wan’s face, the faint new scar that ran down the left side of his face only adding to his charm, especially in that outfit,

“Good,” Obi-Wan replied, and then he reached forward and pulled him into a hug, Anakin’s hope rising and gaining firmer ground as Obi-Wan’s mental shield did little to stop the happiness radiating off the older man.

Stepping back, Obi-Wan nodded.

He held out his right hand and his lightsabre came flying to it from the fresher, the weapon as familiar to Anakin as his own was, the power he used rushing through Anakin too. The older jedi hid it under the holster and the folds of the robe as Anakin controlled the urge to reach around the bond.

They left the room together, Anakin hardly daring to believe he was allowed to go anywhere at all, and walked down the stairs to the lower level of the ship, Anakin’s memories of Obi-Wan’s fear and loss coming back to him as he glimpsed the brig down the end of the corridor, before he shoved it away.

Obi-Wan was right, they had a chance at a fresh start.

The hangar was busy, the padawans, initiates and master jedi all gathered, helping Bail and Breha to finish loading up the shuttle. Anakin stayed back, standing just inside the door as Obi-Wan continued onwards, greeted by all with varying levels of enthusiasm, respect, and welcome.

He paused at what looked like a pram that stood in front of Yoda, and bent over it, interacting with Luke and Leia both, and exchanging a few words with Yoda, Anakin glad he had let him go ahead, giving Obi-Wan those moments.

Bail and Breha called him forward and he joined them on the ramp and turned, seeming to search the crowd as the engines rumbled to life, and the younglings cheered and waved.

His gaze moved up to the door, and Anakin realised Obi-Wan had been looking for him, a full smile of his face as he raised an arm in farewell. Anakin did the same, and the little crowd around the shuttle moved back as the three walked inside and the ramp closed with a whirring thud.

Turning away so that he wouldn’t have to meet anyone as they left the hangar, Anakin walked back up to the top level, following the corridor until he found the exit. He hurried outside the cruiser and looked up in time to see the shuttle rise into the air above them, Obi-Wan, Bail and Breha visible in the bridge.

As it turned and shot off into the sky, Anakin felt as though a part of him left with it.

 _May the force be with you, Master_ , he thought, staring up as it disappeared into space, and, with a bright flash, into hyperspace.

_May the Force be with us all._

* * *

**Oh my gosh another gigantic chapter! I definitely struggled with this a bit, so many emotions my goodness. I hope you enjoyed it, as always, please let me know what you guys think!! Thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing <3 <3 **

**Also, I HAD A PLAN but it looks like this story had it’s own plan, and now the total number of chapters has gone up to 10. Also also did anyone notice the little reference to the Knights of the the Old republic game that I put in?**

**Anyways, time to put some war back into these stars in the next chapter and get this plot moving. Should be another week!**

**Love <3 <3 **


	5. We Don't Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble on Serenno. Intrigue on Razonai. No-one catches a break.

**Chapter 5 – We Don’t Run**

**We don’t run, I’m standing my ground**

**We don’t run, And we don’t back down**

**There’s fire in the sky, there’s thunder on the mountain**

**Bless each tear and this dirt I was born in,**

**We don’t run.**

**-** **_We Don’t Run, Bon Jovi_ **

“We’re about thirty minutes from Serenno!” a voice called from around the corner, and Obi-Wan looked up from the file that he had been studying as Bail rounded the corner,

“Breha is just finalising the rendezvous with our contact,” he added, as he took a seat at the narrow metal table across from Obi-Wan, who was surrounded by datapads, credit chips and two empty cups of tea,

“Good, good,” Obi-Wan replied, looking back down at the file, “I was reading here that the contact is Trandoshan?” he inquired, his tone doubtful as he glanced back up at Bail, and the senator shrugged,

“I know, it’s not the most noble of contacts,” he conceded, pouring himself a mug of what passed for caf on a ship from the untouched jug, 

“Noble? I have never met a Trandoshan that didn’t have loyalty only to themselves,” Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow as he leant back in his seat,

“You’re not wrong,” Bail sighed, leaning forward to turn the datapad towards him, touching the screen so the hologram of their contact popped up in front of them,

“I met him before the war though, when he crashed onto Alderaan and nearly died. I picked him out of the wreckage and now he owes me his life, and Trandoshan’s take their life debts very seriously, apparently, because he held a knife to my throat and demanded I call him if I ever needed a favour,”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, his hand coming up to rest on his chin in a mirror of his favourite thinking pose, though the move didn’t quite have the same effect without a beard, “well that sounds a more likely story,”

“Indeed,” Bail turned the holograph off, “at any rate, we don’t have much choice, you need a new, non-Coruscanti affiliated shuttle if you are to ever get of Razonai and onto the core worlds again without being recognised,”

“That’s true,” Obi-Wan agreed,

“Also, don’t forget the master and padawan request list,” Bail pointed at the small portable datapad sitting to Obi-Wan’s right, “and the list of baby clothes and supplies for Luke and Leia,”

“This is not how I saw my future going,” Obi-Wan replied, even as mention of the children brought with it happiness coloured with the melancholy of missing Luke’s attentive gaze and Leia’s bright smiles,

“Well, you can’t deny you’re absolutely smitten by them,” Bail said, with a knowing smile and Obi-Wan tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement as he picked up the smaller datapad and stored it inside the satchel at his waist, the leather shoulder guards of his outfit restricting his movement as his torso twisted.

It was only a few minutes later that Breha appeared and informed them that the meeting was set for that night, at their shuttle’s parking bay in Carannia port, but that they should check into a hotel first to avoid suspicion.

“You and Bail will depart straight away then, won’t you?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping the worry out of his tone though not out of his thoughts, impossible to suppress given how few allies they had left.

How few _friends_ he had left. 

“Yes, we had better not delay too long, it will take another two days to get near to where we’re supposed to have been ambushed, and then the droid will disable the ship,” Breha said, leaning against her husband’s shoulder as she did so,

“You’ll need to destroy the droid too,” Obi-Wan pointed out, looking between the two of them and Bail nodded as he wrapped an arm around Breha’s waist, looking up at his wife,

“Yes, we’ll throw him out the airlock. A droid drifting in space will be no great cause for alarm, I’m sure there are thousands, if not millions left over from the war,”

“I still can’t believe it’s over,” Breha said, shaking her head,

“The battle is over, it’s true,” Obi-Wan replied, shutting of the datapad and storing that away under the table, “but the war for us is just beginning,”

The Organa’s exchanged a dark look, a sentiment which Obi-Wan shared.

Little more was said on the matter however, and the three of them spent the rest of their time dividing their funds, Obi-Wan taking the majority for all the supplies that he needed to buy, Bail having already transferred their contact a twenty-five percent deposit, with plans to pay the rest when he and Breha were back on Coruscant.

The navigation droid rolled in then to tell them that they had dropped out of hyperspace and were approaching the planet.

Obi-Wan followed the droid up onto the bridge, where Serenno hung in front of them, a pale green orb in the blackness of space, filling up their vision. Obi-Wan marvelled at the lack of separatist warships, the skies above the planet clear of the defence that had kept the republic away through the course of the last three years.

The ship descended quickly, heading for the largest city of Carannia, Obi-Wan taking in, for the first time, the large circular buildings, the fluorescent lights, and the sprawling city below them,

“It is odd to be simply flying into what was once the most heavily protected Separatist planet,” Obi-Wan said, looking to Bail,

“I didn’t actually think there would be a threat bigger than Count Dooku’s separatists,” the senator replied, the port coming into view as they passed clearance and were granted permission to land. Breha draped a cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood up and Bail did the same behind her, the cowl throwing a shadow over both their faces in he brightly lit cockpit. 

“All we can do now, is our best,” Obi-Wan said firmly, the shuttle spinning in place as it hovered before the engines whined and it lowered itself down to dock gently.

The radio flared to life to Obi-Wan’s right and the dock workers instructed them to open their ramp for inspection. They waited patiently as the customs officer went through their hold, their reason for visit being ‘resupply’, which was not entirely untrue. After paying the docking fees, they walked out of the ship, the air on Serenno humid and heavy, Obi-Wan immediately missing his light and cool jedi robes as the atmosphere clung to him like a second cloak,

“This is not the climate for these clothes,” he grumbled quietly to Bail as they walked in the general direction of the hotel they were supposed to be staying at, trying to relax both himself and the other two as the eyes of others turned towards them, assessing the new arrivals,

“Well they’re an excellent disguise for this city, you have to admit,” Bail replied with poorly concealed amusement, and as they passed yet another group of humanoids, he realised the senator was right.

Off this main street led many narrower alleyways, the dirty buildings towering over them, in which groups of two or three stood talking or smoking, all of them dressed in various shades of black and brown with leather being the prominent material. Jedi robes would have stood out like a sore thumb and attracted all kinds of unwanted attention.

“Everyone is armed to the teeth,” Breha muttered, pulling the hood of her cloak up further, and Obi-Wan casually brushed his hand past his own waist, checking for the blaster in its holster and the lightsabre which sat underneath.

They continued down the main strip, the low lighting and hazy fog of the night cloaking the figures of the dockworkers as their voices murmured around them, increasing the tension that Obi-Wan had been carrying since they had left Razonai. He reached into his mind for the bond, a calm pulse from it telling him that Anakin was resting on the other end and hoped that his own emotions weren’t bleeding across. 

“Here we are,” Bail said, as a motel with a crooked sign lit with red letters that read ‘Hearth and Home’ came into view, Obi-Wan trying not to frown as they entered and the smell of damp carpet and rotting wood reached them.

Behind the counter a bothan looked up,

“What do you want?” he asked, turning away from the holoprojector sitting on the desk,

“A room, pre-paid for under the name of Situia” Bail replied confidently and the bothan reached forward for keys and all but threw it at them, Breha sending a scathing glare his way as she caught it, but saying nothing,

“Down that way, room number five,” he grunted, turning back to his screen.

Leading the way, Obi-Wan stepped in front of Bail and Breha and kept his senses alert as they made their way to the room, one hand on his weapon as the force swirled around them, a warning it in, his mind struggling to read around the mix of signatures in the hotel.

They came up to the door and Bail swiped the key card against the ancient locking mechanism and it beeped in response.

Before he could move forward, Obi-Wan held out a hand to stop the senator from entering, taking the blaster into his hand even though he hated the crude weapon. Placing his hand on the doorknob, Obi-Wan swung the door open inwards, light spilling onto the carpet, revealing old stains and a darkened room.

All was still inside, and the master jedi cautiously stepped forward while reaching out with the force, his eyes straining to see into the shadows. 

A spike of alarm was the only warning he got as something jumped on him.

Spinning away from the attacker, Obi-Wan grappled with the large form, and pushed him physically and with the force, throwing the assailant across the room, who landed with a yell and a crash,

“Stay back!” Obi-Wan called to Bail as the attacker’s shadowed form rolled and picked itself back up, a deadly knife spinning out of the darkness, deflected by Obi-Wan with a quick force-shield, and falling harmlessly to the side.

Obi-Wan heard Bail move behind him and then lights flicked on, blinding him and his attacker as well, judging by the loud hissing that erupted from across from him,

“Skikesh, he’s with us!” Bail cried, but not quickly enough, as the Trandoshan had recovered and already launched himself across the room, landing on Obi-Wan as the jedi tried to dodge, the two of them falling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, Obi-Wan winded with the weight of the large sentient.

“Obi-Wan, are you okay?” Breha’s voice called, as the pressure on his chest was reduced, and Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open to see Breha, offering him a hand up as Bail pulled Skikesh, evidently their contact, up to his feet as well,

“What in the sith hell’s was that all about?” Obi-Wan asked, dusting himself off as his left hip twinged with pain,

“You didn’t say nothing about another human, Organa,” the Trandoshan hissed, walking to the other side of the room, drawing the curtains shut over the filthy windows agitatedly,

“He’s the one who was going to meet with you tonight!” Breha exclaimed as she turned away from Obi-Wan, “Why are you even here, we were supposed to meet near the shuttle,” she added, folding her arms across her chest as Obi-Wan walked over to stand next to Bail, taking in the sheer height and power of the reptilian sentient in front of them, glad he hadn’t been a victim to those teeth or claws, 

“I’d also much rather prefer a handshake over a punch as a welcome,” Obi-Wan added, raising an eyebrow at Skikesh, who hissed again, eyes narrowed at the Organas. 

“There’s been a change of plans,” he said, ignoring Obi-Wan’s comment,

“What do you mean?” the senator asked, a frown forming as he studied the sentient who walked over to where Obi-Wan had deflected his large hunting knife,

“I hit a few snags and now the ship that you want has been moved, and we can’t wait until midnight,” the Trandoshan re-holstered the knife, and sat down on the bed,

“And you couldn’t tell us this before?” Breha asked,

“No,” he replied with a flick of his forked tongue, “I could not know who is listening, and if you want your ship, you’re going to have to help me break my partner out of prison first,”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “A prison break?” he asked, even as he resigned himself to a long night,

“Looks like life doesn’t change all that much after all.”

* * *

Anakin lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back on what had been a very long day.

Earlier, after Obi-Wan had left, he had been sitting under the shade of a large tree in the forest that bordered the entrance of the temple, when Yoda had appeared outside the cruiser and began to walk towards him. Anakin had feared that the council had reversed their decision, and that now Obi-Wan was off-planet, they were going to confine him to the brig after all. The darkness had curled around his heart once more, demanding he act now, before the jedi could do anything to him, but when Yoda stopped in front of him calmly, he pushed it away.

He had been relieved his second instinct was correct when Yoda had instead asked him to follow and took him into the cool interior of the temple.

In a room directly to the right of the main doors, with its ceiling reaching all the way to the top of the structure and warm sunlight creating little pools of warmth on the floor, Yoda had bidden Anakin to sit opposite him on the floor.

Remembering his promise to Obi-Wan, Anakin did, even as the darkness inside him roared at his submission, shoving it away, reminding himself that much of his resentment had to have been created by Palpatine, and that Yoda was not the enemy, that _he_ was the damaged one.

They had sat in silence, uncomfortably, as Anakin waited for the reprimands, the demands that he try and make up for his crimes. As time wore on, and the grandmaster simply continued to look at Anakin, he began to feel twitchy. He had wanted to leave, as the guilt and memories of his actions rose once more, and was, as always, worsened by having to sit still.

Finally, Master Yoda had spoken, gently, to tell him that he had a long path to walk, if he were ever to reclaim his lost honour, and his place in their order again.

It was a gesture which surprised Anakin, who had not expected to ever be allowed to so much as look at a lightsabre again, never mind be offered a place within the order that he, in his blindness and rage, had almost destroyed. A little piece of the bitterness he had nurtured over the years towards the grandmaster had broken away then, as he sat looking into sad and old eyes that had clearly also suffered unimaginable losses, probably to a greater degree than he himself had.

Anakin had never thought the grandmaster felt sadness before this day. He had never thought the grandmaster had feelings at all, caught up in his own pride as he had been.

Yet another thing he had been wrong about.

Yoda had then requested permission to examine the bond, through a joint meditation. Anakin had agreed, and had unexpectedly relaxed when the light, gentle signature of the grandmaster enveloped him, examining and searching his mind.

The bond was calm, and didn’t react at all to the intrusion, for which Anakin was glad.

Yoda eventually disengaged, and informed Anakin that the bond was still healthy, that he would need to present for meditation on a regular basis, and that he had the rest of the evening to himself, to begin work on logging tomorrow.

Anakin was already exhausted from the quiet meditation, as Yoda shuffled away, and though he feared what Yoda might say the longer they meditated together he also felt…lighter.

It was easier, almost, to go to Yoda, Anakin thought, because the bond didn’t confuse and distract him the way it did with Obi-Wan.

Yoda was a respected master.

Obi-Wan was _his_ master and that made all the difference.

Getting up from the floor himself, Anakin had spent his newfound free time wandering the temple, following the flows of the force, as he put aside the feelings brought up by the meditation, the turmoil of the last few days fading as the peaceful power of the planet surrounded him. His wandering took him through each floor, through each ruined room, memories of the lives lived here coming to him in patchy echoes across time as the sun drifted lower in the sky.

Eventually, his feet had led him back outside into the balmy evening air, and he continued walking, until he reached a piece of cleared and charred ground, lying to the north of the temple.

On this elevated face of the plateau stood a metre-high stone block, many burned lightsabres laid to form a circle, at the centre of which sat a fine silver necklace, and an intricate silver and platinum headband – a memorial.

After the initial shock of having found the stone had passed, Anakin had felt like a knife had been driven through his ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Stumbling forward, he had fallen to his knees with a cry in front of it, Padmé’s name leaving his lips and sorrow burning through him as he gazed upon the last jewelry he had seen his wife wearing before he had betrayed her and everything she had ever fought for.

Hatred rose in him, hatred for the jedi, for the sith, for the whole universe, for everything that had taken her from him, but it burned out quickly as the truth sat heavy on his heart, the coils of darkness compressed by the weight of it.

 _He_ had allowed the hate to take him and _he_ had lost the chance to say goodbye to her.

In the bright evening sun, he could see clearly that no-one but himself was to blame for the rage he had allowed to grow in him, the excuses he had made for his behaviour, his choices.

Force – _his_ choices.

The fallen jedi had sobbed, bent over the stone, humbled and remorseful, his tears falling to the burnt ground around it, as he finally allowed himself to accept that Padmé was truly gone, this, solid proof of her last resting place.

Eventually, he had no more tears, as he reached out a trembling hand to touch the band, the force despondent around him, the bond still blazing in his mind his only comfort despite the great distance. 

Obi-Wan had always been precious to him, and even when he had turned to others and left his old master behind, Obi-Wan had always been there waiting for him, a rock-solid presence.

Anakin had known in that moment as his grief solidified into determination, that he would die before he ever lost Obi-Wan – to death or to estrangement by his own actions and failings – ever again.

He would do better.

He could be better.

The sun had disappeared by the time he heard footsteps behind him, heavy as they were and making no effort to hide their approach. They stopped some way behind him, the smell of welded metal and smoke accompanying them on the light breeze,

“Skywalker,” the voice said, 

“Vos,” he replied, too burnt out to feel much of his usual annoyance at the other’s existence,

“The nights are harsh out here. It’s best you come inside,” the Kiffar stated, the words formal and stiff, a note of reluctance in them.

Anakin didn’t move, he didn’t feel he had the energy to move.

The Kiffar took another step forward, and grasped Anakin’s arm firmly, pulling him to his feet,

“Come on,” he said again, and Anakin followed.

Once they were inside, Vos had left him to his own devices, so he had found his way to the mess, the volume of chatter decreasing drastically as he entered, all eyes drawn to him, whispers like the wind breaking out in the room as masters and younglings paused in their evening repast. He had ignored it, and walked to the serving droid, picking up the first thing he saw before he left, quickly, as the hostility around him set his teeth on edge, feeding the darkness that was lying in wait, always ready to pounce on any opportunity he gave it.

So, he went back to his quarters, Obi-Wan’s signature stronger here, all the better to banish the murmurs with, and sat on the couch, eating by himself.

It was not much longer after he had finished that Vos had come in, showered, and gotten into bed, the Kiffar clearly ready to go to sleep.

So, Anakin now lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling.

No-one had attacked him today.

The pain and grief were there but it was as if seeing the grave brought some part of him back to reality, back to what he was and what he had left behind.

It was true that the rage within him was still only a hair-trigger away, but Anakin finally felt more like himself, finally felt that he was starting to get some control over the person that he had become. 

It was not perfect, but Anakin was almost starting to believe that maybe tomorrow could be a better day.

* * *

Obi-Wan grimaced as Skikesh led him through what felt like the hottest and wettest part of the planet, the thick atmosphere trapping in heat even though the sun had long set.

The master jedi was grateful that Anakin had had given him his cloak, because it did well to protect him from the small stinging insects that hung in the marsh pits, and the high boots, of much better quality than his jedi ones, protected him from the ankle deep muck he was marching through, around half an hour outside of the city.

After telling them that he needed their help to break his partner out of prison, Skikesh had showed them the place his partner was being held on a datapad he had brought with him, and Obi-Wan nearly told Bail that maybe they needed to rethink who they were buying the shuttle from, and if this was worth it.

The prison in question was deep in the swamps and marsh jungle outside of Carannia, and it was heavily guarded by a droid and sentient army, reserved for the most wanted criminals. Skikesh showed them a tunnel that took the bodies of the prisoners from the prison to the city for burial or collection by the family, and that he had a tool that could get him and Obi-Wan through – in and out in under an hour, he assured them, but he could not do it alone.

When Bail had tried to back out, Skikesh had hissed a laugh, his forked tongue flicking out as his eyes glinted in the low wattage lights of the motel room and he pulled out another datapad.

Obi-Wan’s heart sank.

The Trandoshan had rigged their ship with explosives, probably when they had left it in the port and walked to this motel. As it was their only ship, they had absolutely no choice but to help him, or risk being stranded on a planet with absolutely no resources at their disposal.

With no other options, Obi-Wan’s mind went into damage control, and insisted that Bail and Breha stay in the hotel – if things do go wrong, at least they would stand a chance to get off this planet, and back into the senate – and he followed Skikesh out of the room and into a speeder he had parked in a side alley next to the motel.

They had made the journey out of the city under the cover of night, the fog increasing as they left the cemented roads, and the swamplands around them grew out in every direction. Soon, the speeder could go no further, and with the prison looming out of the mists, its lights blurry up above the forest that surrounded it, it was probably best they went in on foot.

Now, struggling through with no light to guide him, Obi-Wan tripped over another wet root and his other leg sank into a tangle of even more soggy roots, the Trandoshan turning back with a hiss, watching Obi-Wan struggling but doing nothing to help,

“Do you have no vision at all?” the sentient hissed, his slit eyes picking up the very little light available and almost glowing in the dark, Obi-Wan finally tugging his foot free,

“I am human,” he replied in a clipped tone, as the Trandoshan turned back and continued onwards, without flinching, his scaled skin apparently immune to the sharp branches that Obi-Wan kept getting scratched by,

“Humans are weak,” he said, and Obi-Wan contented himself with glaring at the creature’s back, running through the jedi code in his mind even as his irritation grew.

After another ten minutes of this slow progress, the marshy forest finally began to thin, and the Trandoshan paused by the roots of a large tree at the edge of the forest, hidden in the shadows, to let a panting Obi-Wan catch up.

The human raised an eyebrow as the prison came into focus, rising out of the jungle and casting its light onto the surrounding environment.

About ten metres in front of them sat a viscous bog, bubbling slowly and acting as a physical barrier that would quite easily trap unwanted and unprepared visitors. Around three hundred metres to the right, a heavily guarded bridge arched over the murky mud, the movements of droids and sentients shrouded in fog, their shadows long and distorted in the bright floodlights that lit the crossing. On the other side of the bog, Obi-Wan frowned as he examined the electrified wire fence, standing taller than the prison itself, with large stone guard towers on the inside, complete with gun turrets, guards and searchlights scouring the grounds around the prison.

“Where is this tunnel of yours?” Obi-Wan asked, looking at the Trandoshan, sceptical that anyone could get into this prison without an armed force of their own. The sentient pointed to the left, away from the bridge and the definite death that waited for anyone trying to cross it unauthorised. Obi-Wan allowed himself a private moment of relief, as he followed the Trandoshan’s gesture and spotted the vague shape of a tunnel protruding out of the ground, coming out of the bog and leading off into the forest,

“Let’s get to it then,” Obi-Wan said, and Skikesh nodded, moving off first.

Sticking to the shadows of the forest, crouched low to the ground with the hood covering his face, Obi-Wan followed him, until the pipe came into view. It was made of a metal alloy that was covered in moss and grime, the Trandoshan simply wiping a small part clean and unslinging the large pack he had on his back.

Obi-Wan watched as he withdrew from it an oddly shaped metal tool, with a cutting blade on one end and a handle on the other, without any obvious battery pack or power source, “you don’t mean to cut that by hand do you?” Obi-Wan whispered, watching the sentient.

He ignored the jedi and attached the tool, extending the cutting blade with a switch, which Obi-Wan was surprised to see wrapped around almost half the width of the pipe. Motioning for him to step back, Skikesh grabbed the handle with both hands and then pushed forward. As he did so, the metal blades glowed faintly red, and Obi-Wan watched, impressed, as the metal underneath it melted, as if this were a lightsabre cutting through a door. In seconds, the whole pipe was sawn in half, the smell of rotting meat reaching him,

“That certainly is novel,” Obi-Wan said, and the Trandoshan sent him an approximation of a smirk as he quickly folded it away and put it back into the back,

“Weak humans,” he said again, sealing the bag with efficient tugs on the rope,

“Right, well if we’re so weak, what did you need me for?” Obi-Wan huffed, and the Trandoshan did smile then, his sharp teeth unnervingly bright in the low light diffusing towards them from the prison,

“Need you to be distraction,” he said and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow,

“What, you want me to go up to that bridge and bring down the might of that army on myself?” he asked, and the Trandoshan nodded, swinging the bag over his shoulder, “that’s madness, I’m not doing it,” Obi-Wan said, and the Trandoshan bared his teeth,

“You do not know where the prisoner is. You do not know how to navigate the prison. You cannot bend metal,” he said, all of them points which Obi-Wan could not refute, “your ship will blow up if you do not distract well enough,” he added, and Obi-Wan grimaced,

“Very well,” he sighed, “though I don’t know how long I can give you,” he added, looking at the chrono on his wrist,

“I need ten minutes,” the Trandoshan replied confidently.

Looking back over to the bridge, Obi-Wan wondered if he could even manage five minutes against them, especially as he was disinclined to use the sabre as it had every likelihood of bringing the might of the new empire down on top of him, and possibly then the last of the jedi.

Obi-Wan sighed again.

There really wasn’t any other option.

Moreover, he owed it to Bail and Breha to try.

He looked back to the Trandoshan, “Okay,” he agreed, and the sentient nodded and launched himself into the tunnel with terrific speed, disappearing into the darkness, the fog swirling behind in his wake.

Turning and hurrying back along the tree line, Obi-Wan continued past where he and Skikesh had emerged, coming to a stop around fifty metres from the bridge, not liking the look of those blaster rifles, now he could see them more clearly.

He looked at his chronometer – a minute had passed.

Deciding that higher ground would give him a better vantage point, Obi-Wan turned back into the forest, picking his way through the underbrush carefully, and found a tree that grew taller than those around it. Using the force to assist in the darkness, Obi-Wan managed to scale it, finding a thicker branch that could bear his weight just at the top of the canopy, with enough room to move and hide if necessary.

From here he analysed the bridge, its guards, and the placement of their communication towers, looking for potential targets.

He would not be able to keep shooting once they noticed him, so whatever he chose to shoot at initially would have to be a key target.

He glanced over to the guard towers inside the prison compound, and noted gratefully that the bright white beams of the search lights were angled in such a way that they would not be able to turn out into the forest to try and locate him, though the guns sat on three hundred and sixty degree mounts, and he was sure they could strafe the forest.

He looked back at his chronometer. Another three minutes had passed.

If he were to give Skikesh the distraction he wanted, Obi-Wan could not wait any longer, so he unholstered his blaster, sticking close to the trunk of the tree and dropped his hood.

The stagnant air was still around him, and inside the prison it was still dark, Skikesh clearly still undetected. Throwing a prayer to the force, Obi-Wan aimed to the right of a guard standing still on the other side of the bridge, at what looked like a lamp shining just behind his foot. Calculating the angle Obi-Wan depressed the trigger, firing off a single shot.

The electronic rapport was absorbed by the leafy forest around him, a red blaster bolt flying away, destroying the in-ground light, throwing that area into darkness, and startling the humanoid guard away with a yell.

Obi-Wan watched as there were confused responses around him, and then someone must have hit the alarm.

An ear-splitting klaxon sounded, sending his heart thudding in his chest, and Obi-Wan looked back at his chronometer.

Six minutes gone. All he had to do was hold out for four more.

He fired again, this time aiming for the rifle in a guard’s hand as he waved it about, commanding the other's around him, and then Obi-Wan flattened himself to the tree trunk, as one of the guards had seen the general direction that last bolt had come from and replied with his own from the bridge.

That single shot was followed by more bolts than he could count, peppering the forest around him, the sheer number of shots meaning that many came close to him by simple luck, though the general spread was towards the lower branches and the ground. 

How he wished he could take his lightsabre out.

The sound of the alarm was cut off and Obi-Wan leaned around the trunk again to see that the massive iron gates were opening, his jaw tightening as a troop of around fifty soldiers marched out. Knowing that if they got closer, he wouldn’t be able to fire without risking death from sheer overwhelming firepower, Obi-Wan sent off three shots, purposely missing the guards on the bridge as their reinforcements broke formation and ran to take cover.

All the guards were shooting back now, and Obi-Wan shielded himself with the force, one of the lucky bolts breaking through and causing him to gasp in pain and fall to his knees, holding onto the trunk for dear life with his uninjured arm, as a small fire started to his right, on a neighbouring tree. 

Grimacing, Obi-Wan picked himself up and carefully climbed to the other side, moving around the trunk, hoping that the fire would not spread, and that if it did, he would be able to jump from here to the other trees in time.

It should have been more alarming how much of his plan here depended on hope.

He fired off more shots, subtly using the force to change their origin as they flew, but still had to duck for cover as the machine gun turrets from behind the walls engaged. With a menacing hum, they lit sky up as they strafed the forest with bolts, Obi-Wan hiding behind the trunk and so, so thankful that he had chosen to climb the tree, as another bolt hit and the whole structure shuddered.

Looking around the trunk in alarm Obi-Wan was grateful to see it hadn’t ignited the bark, but the one next door was still burning merrily, throwing strange shadows onto the thick fog around it, as the turret made another strafing run.

His left shoulder aching, Obi-Wan glanced at his chrono.

Nine minutes gone. 

“Come on, Skikesh,” Obi-Wan muttered, nearly losing his footing as the tree shook again, the red light of blaster fire, the smell of burning wood and the flickering light of the actual fire transporting him back to the battle fields, for a brief moment disorientated.

In those few seconds, as the olfactory and visual memories bombarded him, he closed his eyes, reached up to the bond, and opened it, the flood of familiarity and warmth grounding him back in the present as the blaster fire grew more intense.

If he were going to die here, of all the places in the universe, at least he would not be entirely alone.

Anakin’s presence on the other side was awake, if not groggy,

 _Obi-Wan?_ he asked, his tone unsure,

 _Hello._ Obi-Wan replied, a sense of peace suffusing him, Anakin’s voice through the bond, the feel of his signature as clear as if Obi-Wan was standing right next to him. The part of him that conservatively held onto all the rules and regulations of their order noted that it should not have been this way, over such a great distance, but as the tree tilted, the great boughs creaking under the onslaught, and the voices of the guards got louder, Obi-Wan shoved that part even further away,

 _I woke up,_ Anakin said, confused, _I had a nightmare_ … _something was wrong…It **was** a nightmare wasn’t it? Are you okay?_

 _I’m…_ Obi-Wan tried to find a reassuring phrase as Anakin’s anxiety flared,

 _Obi-Wan?!_ he demanded, and Obi-Wan reached out, wrapping his light around the anxiety, waiting until Anakin’s fear receded,

_I’m in a bit of a situation_ , he said then, and he felt an equal mix of worry and amusement from the man,

 _That’s the phrase you use when you don’t want to tell the Council we kriffed the mission,_ Anakin replied, and Obi-Wan laughed despite himself,

“HUMAN!” Skikesh’s roar broke him out of the bond, his gaze dragged to the marshland floor beneath him, and he spotted the Trandoshan, carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, running through the forest, dodging and weaving desperately as bark and mud was thrown up around him, “HUMAN!” he yelled again, and Obi-Wan dropped down, using the force to slow his descent,

“Here!” he called, as on the other end of the bond, Anakin grew still more apprehensive,

“HUMAN!” he exclaimed with some relief, pushing Obi-Wan behind cover and using his own body as a shield as they were strafed again, “Why were you up the tree?” he asked, his face much too close for Obi-Wan’s liking,

“I liked the view,” he replied wryly, his eyebrow arching.

The Trandoshan blinked in confusion,

“Strange human,” he said, under his breath, sounding genuinely confused, as a lull in the shooting brought a strange echoing silence to the forest around them, “time to go,” he ordered, and with that, he turned around and took off with speed in the direction they had left the speeder, Obi-Wan close behind.

As the shooting started up again, this time nearer than before, the light of blaster bolts lit their way and the forest that Obi-Wan had so hated walking through earlier actually served as shield for them on their way out, their pursuers knowing the general direction Obi-Wan had fired from but struggling to mobilise their forces, unprepared as they were for this attack.

 _I’ll see you soon,_ Obi-Wan said over the bond, as he hurried to keep up with the Trandoshan, this time either the adrenaline of the fight or the force itself helping to keep him upright over the thick roots and deep puddles as he splashed, jumped and crashed his way through,

 _Come back safe,_ Anakin replied, his tone desperate and Obi-Wan re-shielded the bond to protect Anakin from his own instinctive fear, as an explosion shook the forest around them, the shockwave almost throwing him off his feet.

Running into Skikesh’s back as he stopped, he turned with the Trandoshan, following his gaze back towards the prison.

The night sky visible through the thick canopy was lit by a fiery inferno, the yellow glow eerily suffusing the forest they had just ran through, diffusing through the water in the fog that hung heavy over it.

The guards must have discovered their prisoner missing, because now there was a hovercraft, moving into view through the opening in the canopy briefly, long enough for Obi-Wan to discern its shape and purpose. It was a black monstrosity lit with red strip lights, and it was firebombing the forest, the prison clearly having decided that if they could not capture the intruders, they definitely could still kill them.

Frozen for a moment, Obi-Wan glanced at the Trandoshan, before both of them took off at full speed, shoving their way through the trees, branches smacking his face as sweat soaked his shirt, the smell of fire and the roar of engines behind them only urging them on faster.

Finally, they emerged from the brush and Obi-Wan all but threw himself onto the speeder, almost dropping the unconscious person thrust at him, the body still and wrapped in what appeared to be a laundry bag and feeling very small, especially when compared to the Trandoshan who straddled the bike in front of them.

As sirens split the air and high overhead police shuttles flew towards the prison, Skikesh kept the speeder’s lights off and turned them around, urging the machine to its maximum speed.

Taking what felt like a back road – dark, unlit and clear of any police – Obi-Wan felt like he was going to be thrown off any minute, given that one hand was holding the rescued prisoner balanced between himself and the Trandoshan.

As another swerve nearly had him sliding off, the master jedi tightened his grip and simply hoped Bail and Breha were safe back at the motel, as the night rushed by them in a blur of motion.

* * *

Anakin sighed and sat up, his heart constricting in fear as Obi-Wan shielded again, the echo of an explosion and Obi-Wan’s responding adrenaline surge trickling through to him, the bond settling back into its quiet hum.

He ran a hand through his hair, displeased to find it damp with sweat, his body reacting to a danger that wasn’t his. The cabin around him was dark, and Anakin threw his blankets off and got to his feet by the light of the moon pouring in through the viewport.

As his foot connected painfully with the leg of the coffee table, he drew in a sharp breath, and suffered through it silently so as not to wake Vos and endure his belligerent stare.

Once the pain passed, Anakin found himself unable to keep still, and started pacing the room, walking between the kitchenette and the corridor wall, his mind fixed on the bond, straining to see past the veil, wishing he knew what was happening on the other side.

It would be easier if Obi-Wan hadn’t communicated with him and he could have put his unpleasant awakening down to another bad dream and moved on.

Except that wasn’t true at all.

He was also overwhelmingly glad that Obi-Wan did reach out, connected with him, chose to speak to him. It was comforting that Obi-Wan had meant what he had said, and Anakin felt another piece of the darkness within him retreat, unable to stand in the light of the forgiveness he had been freely given.

It also made it so much harder.

What if…

Anakin shook his head, unable to even think the multitude of what ifs that chilled him to his very soul as they rattled around his head, but also unable to ignore the gnawing sense of fear.

Making his mind up, Anakin decided he could stay in the cabin no longer. 

Changing into his tunic and pants, haphazardly pulling his tabard and belt over top, Anakin grabbed the thick black jacket that Obi-Wan had worn a day ago, and pulled it on, the scent of sandalwood and the spiced tea Obi-Wan preferred drifting up to him as he left the cabin.

He thought he saw Vos’ eyes open and watching him but didn’t care what the Kiffar thought. He couldn’t be in that room, with Obi-Wan’s signature everywhere, and Obi-Wan’s clothes draped over the back of a chair, but the man himself gone and he, Anakin, helpless to do anything to help his old master. 

The fallen jedi squinted in the low light of the hallway, and then turned left, following the corridor out of the bedroom wing, and then into the entrance hallway. Keying in the passcodes to the exit with only half a mind on what he was doing, Anakin stepped out into the chilly night and nearly lost his balance on the ice that had formed over the heavily trodden mud. Using the cold metal of the ship to steady himself, Anakin pushed himself up and walked away from the temple, unsure where he was going, only knowing that he needed to get away.

The bond felt the same as it always did. Surely the bond would tell him if Obi-Wan was hurt? What if he was? Could his shield be preventing Anakin from finding out?

Anakin’s heart rate sped up as nausea crept over him.

He could not do this.

He could _not_ go through this again.

As he walked on the now cleared and hardpacked main road of their little settlement, he felt his panic escalating, barely noting where he was going.

Losing Padmé had been horrendous. He had thought he could not live without her. Yet he had been forced to live, by Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who looked at him with hope in his eyes.

Obi-Wan, whose signature he had memorised, craved, and needed from the moment they had been re-bonded.

Obi-Wan chose him.

So somehow, unbelievably, the thought of losing his beautiful, sweet wife now paled in comparison to also losing Obi-Wan, before he even- before he even had the chance to tell him – tell him what?

That he was sorry?

That he had never meant to hurt him?

That he was loved?

Anakin stopped walking with a noise of pain and leant against the tree, his anxiety unleashing the force around him, the wood cracking under his grip,

Obi-Wan _was_ loved.

He knew that didn’t he?

Anakin turned so his back was to the tree, his eyes closed, the light of the moon filtering through them with a pale pink light. He sunk to the ground, sliding along the bark until he could go no more, his knees pulled into his chest and his arms resting on his knees. He let his head fall forward, focusing on his breathing, the very planet around him seeming to react to his presence.

He had always been more sensitive to the force than anyone he knew.

The chosen one they had called him.

What was the point, he thought despairingly, if he could not save the people he loved?

His mother.

His wife.

His…his Obi-Wan.

What was the point?

 _There is always a point,_ a voice whispered, and Anakin’s head snapped up, his heart thundering in his chest as his eyes searched for the source. His hand automatically went to his belt and he felt a stab of frustration as his hand met nothing but soft leather, his sabre now with the masters.

He was still a moment more, taking in the environment around him.

The drum beat calls of the night-creatures were the same that he had heard before, and he could feel no sentient force signatures around him. The planet’s signature was…different though, different to what it was even a minute ago, and if Anakin reached out, he could follow the threads, a particular one, tinged in blue and magenta, caught his attention, and he reached out and –

He blinked and he wasn’t sitting on hard packed earth anymore, and the cold air, the sounds of life, the sky above him – they were gone.

Stumbling to his feet in alarm, Anakin staggered away from the – _rock wall?_

His footsteps were loud on the floor underneath his boots, and the cave was illuminated by a bright white light, burning on top of an ornate golden holder fixed to the wall above where he had been sitting. It didn’t look electric, it didn’t look like anything Anakin had ever seen before, and he approached it cautiously, the force around him as peaceful as ever despite his internal chaos.

The light hovered above the holder, no flame, no wires. The power coming of it was clean, and crisp. It was as if it were made of the force itself.

_Come child._

The voice sounded in his head again and he spun in a circle, the presence making itself known in the force and moving around him, but nothing was visible to his eyes,

“Come where?” he asked aloud, too recently fallen to trust the force as he might once have done.

_Come._

Another light suddenly appeared, further away from him, and Anakin realised he was standing not in a cave, but a corridor.

Anakin took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, momentarily putting Obi-Wan’s situation out of his mind.

He looked around him properly then, with a general’s eyes, scanning his situation for the best tactical advantage.

The walls and floor caught his attention almost immediately, and he was amazed to see that the rock was a deep black, almost void like, but interspersed in it were streaks of the most brilliant white stone he had ever seen. It almost looked like it was shining on its own. Reaching out to lay a hand on it, it was warm.

The force around him didn’t feel dangerous either. It felt welcoming, it felt safe.

Realising that he had very little choice, Anakin sighed aloud, looking to his right at the second ball of light that had appeared.

The only way out, it seemed, was through.

And maybe he could use this to their advantage, he thought. If whatever it was that brought him here was able to transport him in an instant, maybe it could do the same for Obi-Wan.

With that thought, Anakin set off.

* * *

Obi-Wan was just getting used to the blurred world around him when Skikesh changed into a lower gear and their pace became less hurried. 

The environment around them had changed, as they got closer to Carannia, the swamplands left far behind for the hill country and eventually the outer suburbs. Now that the sirens and the guards were left far behind, the ride had been peaceful, and here, on the outskirts of the city, the few souls who were out did not look twice at them.

Obi-Wan readjusted the grip he had on the sentient balanced on the bike in front of him. It really was a small creature, maybe the size of a human child of around ten or twelve, and it was very light too. Obi-Wan wondered again why Skikesh would risk everything to get this one out of the prison, when it was no secret that his species placed size and power above all things.

The streets around them were very quiet, the news of the prison break clearly not having reached the city, all the boards and holo advertisements showing their normal displays.

With no traffic, they made their way back into the heart of the city quickly, the buildings getting larger and the streets cleaner, before Skikesh turned them in the direction of the port district, the fog increasing as the buildings grew more dilapidated, less well maintained, and more people appeared on street corners and in the alleyways outside the seedy cantinas. 

It was with relief that they finally pulled up in front of the motel, Obi-Wan glad to see that crooked sign and its red letters after the harrowing hour they had just experienced.

Stiff now, from the bike ride and the awkward grip he had on the passenger, Obi-Wan’s hip burned as he moved off the speeder, and his left shoulder stung with the untreated blaster wound, but he staunchly ignored them.

Skikesh took the prisoner from him, slinging the bundle over his shoulder, and led the way inside the motel. The receptionist did not look up, and they didn’t stop, turning down the corridor to room number five instead, passing no other guests as they walked the dimly lit passage.

Arriving in front of the door, Obi-Wan knocked twice and was pleased that Bail and Breha took some time to open the door, hopefully preparing themselves for a potentially hostile threat on the other side. The door cracked open a couple of centimetres, and then opened fully as Bail moved back to let them both in.

Finally allowing himself to relax, Obi-Wan felt the pain of his injuries intensify as the adrenaline washed away to be replaced by exhaustion, sitting on the bed with a sigh,

“You’re hurt!” Breha cried, running over to him, as the Trandoshan untied the strings of the bag and tipped the sentient out onto the bed.

Looking over Breha’s shoulder as she checked over the shoulder wound, Obi-Wan was shocked to see that inside the bag _was_ a human child of around twelve years, his hands bound and his mouth gagged, black hair long and shaggy, brilliant green eyes terrified as he looked between Skikesh and the humans,

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan demanded, getting to his feet and gently pushing Breha away, her voice dying off as she too noticed the child.

The Trandoshan glared up at him as he dropped to sit on the floor, pulling out his knife and a whetstone from his pocket,

“You said we were breaking your partner out of prison,” Bail said, his face thunderous, 

“I lied,” Skikesh replied, and then hissed as the boy made a noise around the gag, struggling to sit on the bed,

“Quiet boy,” he warned, and the child shrank back in fear,

“Where are you taking the child?” Obi-Wan asked, adamant that he would have no part in slave trafficking even if it meant sacrificing the entire mission,

“Back to my clients, who will give us a ship in exchange,” Skikesh replied, as he put the whetstone away and began to sharpen his claws, his slit irises keeping a fixed and steady gaze on Obi-Wan,

“We’re buying a ship with a boy’s life?” Breha exclaimed, disgusted, while Obi-Wan started examining the room, thinking of the safest way to grab the boy, and protect Bail and Breha in case this turned ugly,

“We aren’t helping you anymore, Skikesh, keep your deposit,” Bail said, turning around,

“Forgot about the explosives on your ship, Senator?” the Trandoshan said, a threat in his voice, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to reach for his lightsabre.

How do they keep ending up in the situations like this?

Walking forward, he pulled with the force and the knife from the Trandoshan’s hand flew into his, the reptilian sentient springing to his feet with a growl that made the child hide his face in the bed. Ignoring him, Obi-Wan sat on the bed, and gently tapped the boy on the shoulder. The child was shaking, and turned to look at him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears,

“I’m going to free you now, okay?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice calm. The boy nodded,

“Very good, stay still,” Obi-Wan commanded, and then reached around and slit the binds around the boy’s hands, before slipping his finger underneath the band of the gag, and sliding the knife through the rough material. 

Throwing the knife onto the ground, he helped the child sit up as he coughed, “easy,” Obi-Wan said, the green eyes watching him with suspicion,

“Here, child,” Breha said, crouching down next to the bed so she was looking up at the boy, and handing him a glass of water. He drank it as behind them Skikesh watched, but said nothing more,

“Where are you from?” Obi-Wan asked and the boy coughed once more before answering,

“Villen Farm, outside the city,” he said, his voice hoarse,

“What were you doing in the prison, lad?” Bail asked, coming to stand at the foot of bed, behind Obi-Wan,

“My father owed a lot of money. They took me for ransom,” he answered, his voice strong despite his obvious fear, and Obi-Wan frowned, turning around to look at Skikesh,

“So, his parents hired you to get their son back?” he asked and Skikesh nodded once,

“Why not tell us that, from the beginning?” Breha asked, exasperated, and the Trandoshan shrugged, picking up his knife again,

“Trust no one is the name of my game. I trust senators and humans who live on the core worlds even less than the people out here. None of you do anything if not given the proper motivation,”

“That’s not true,” Obi-Wan responded, his voice firm, as the slit pupils shifted back onto him,

“Perhaps,” Skikesh said, flicking one of his claws against his chest, “but I needed to make sure you wouldn’t betray me,” he replied, his voice frank, “lying to you meant even if you did, I lost nothing. And I did need to get the boy out of prison, as his family are holding the space craft at their house. The boy’s freedom is the payment for the craft,”

Sighing aloud, Obi-Wan shook his head,

“Very well, let’s get this trade over and done with then,” he said, and Bail nodded as Breha packed up what few things they had brought with them, the child sitting quietly on the bed and staring at the opposite wall.

It was a long trip from their motel to the boy’s family, as the farm was on the other side of the city, outside the urbanised area.

Having called a large taxi, they rode through the city quietly, the boy silent and contemplative in the corner, resistant to Bail’s attempts to entertain him, and Obi-Wan felt himself dozing off from the pain medications Breha had forced on him as she tended his shoulder wound.

After an extended period of travel, the taxi rocking gently with the movement, they slowed to a stop and got out of the car, emerging at the gate of what appeared to be a farmhouse.

All the buildings and bustle of the city were gone, to be replaced with lush grassland stretching out in every direction, lit by the first light of dawn, a large and new looking spaceship parked off to the right breaking up the natural landscape.

Lights turned on in the house sitting about a hundred metres back on the property, as the sound of the taxi’s engines no doubt carried over to it, and two adult humans appeared on the porch. Obi-Wan was satisfied that they weren’t lied to again when the child recognised them, and with a cry of “Mama!” ran through the gate, as his parents hurried down the path, enveloping him in a hug.

Obi-Wan approached them slowly, allowing Skikesh to take the lead, Bail and Breha next to him. Once they were level with the little family, the mother reached out to shake Skikesh’s hand, then Obi-Wan’s as well,

“Thank you, oh thank you!” she cried,

“I’m sorry we had to hold the ship as we did, sir,” the father said, reaching into his pocket and handing over what looked to be the starter chip of a ship, “but I didn’t know how else to get my boy back,”

The Trandoshan said nothing, but turned and handed the chip over to Bail and Breha,

“I’ll expect the rest of my payment within the month,” he said to them, reaching into his pocket and removing a small datapad, “press the deactivate button when you’re near your ship, and the explosives will fall off harmlessly,” he instructed, before turning around and walking back to the waiting cab, without so much a word of goodbye.

“I’m glad you got your son back,” Breha said, patting the mother on the arm lightly, 

“I see you’re injured,” the father said, pointing to Obi-Wan, “would you care to come in for some rest or at the very least, a meal?” he asked, but Obi-Wan shook his head with a courteous smile, wishing he could.

A week ago, maybe he would have, as this would be a good place to set up a listening room in, gathering intelligence, out of the way but well connected if the satellites on the farmhouse roof were anything to go by. There was a new feeling in the mix now, however, and it was generated by the bond, pulling at him, drawing his mind back to Razonai, the Jedi and Quin. Back to the two little lives that were imprinted on his heart. Back to Anakin.

With words of farewell, they walked to the shuttle, which responded to their chip, and lowered the ramp as commanded.

Making their way inside, they explored it and were pleased to find that it was well appointed with crew and officer quarters, a shared mess hall, a small recreation area, and a modern bridge,

“Well, we’ll go back to the city, get the supplies we both need, and then head off,” Bail said, pushing Obi-Wan back down the corridor as Breha sat down at the flight console, running through the pre-flight checks as she strapped herself in.

“I can fly,” he protested, but Bail was having none of it, pushing him into one of the bedrooms,

“Sleep,” he demanded, and Obi-Wan was going to argue that he had once commanded an army and didn’t need to be told when to sleep, thank you very much, but it was as though seeing a bed was enough to remind his body that he hadn’t actually slept properly in quite a while, and as soon as he lay down, he was out.

He came back to the world around them almost a second later it seemed, as Bail tapped him on the shoulder, waking Obi-Wan from a dreamless sleep,

“We’ve landed back at Carannia port,” he said, turning the lights in the officer’s quarters on, and Obi-Wan winced as he sat up, feeling like an old man with how much stiffness was in his shoulder and hip.

After a slightly unsteady start, he followed Bail out into the corridor, where Breha was waiting,

“This ship will be good for you guys,” she said, “lots of space, and excellent controls,”

“Are you sure you want to take the old shuttle?” Obi-Wan asked as he followed Bail down the ramp and into the mid-morning sunlight and warmth, the sounds of the port around him loud, as people called out in every language and machinery whirred and thudded with heavy loads,

“Of course,” Breha replied, “it’s various bits of damage will make it look more authentic when we get picked up by the empire,” she explained, Obi-Wan resisting the urge to argue against the plan again. There was little use when they both had made up their mind, and he still didn’t have a better idea on how to gather intelligence.

Together the group made their way through the port and to the now bustling market district, which sat a short walk away.

It was filled with single level shops cut into the side of towering residential buildings all around them, rows and rows of carts forming smaller pedestrian lanes on the road in between, packed with a thousand shoppers of every race as they shouted and bargained in multitudinous languages while trade prospered.

As they walked, following the flow of the crowd, Bail looked over to Obi-Wan, “Now that you’ve rested I should tell you what Breha and I heard when we were waiting for you and Skikesh to get back,” he said, his voice low and head bent towards Obi-Wan, the noise of the market doing well to disguise their conversation,

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said, pausing at a stall selling odd little trinkets,

“Mmhm, it’s rather a worrying new development,” Breha replied, also browsing the stall with Obi-Wan,

“Well you’re killing me with the suspense,” Obi-Wan replied, a smile on his lips, “do tell,”

“The Emperor is apparently holding a ball in three months, at the imperial palace,” Breha said, leaning over Obi-Wan to look at the silver jewellery on his left,

“A ball? The Imperial Palace?” Obi-Wan asked, confused, “what is he, a courtly king of old?”

“Apparently, it’s the new place he is building over the jedi temple, and he’s calling people together to celebrate the end of the clone wars and to mark the unification of the galaxy,” Bail said from behind them as they turned away, continuing to wander down the narrow pathways, people jostling them and vendors voices deafening them as they shouted about sales and new merchandise,

“What’s it really for?” Obi-Wan asked, pausing again at another stall which held a small polaroid camera. The price was rather reasonable, and he picked it up, examining it,

“Well I risked getting a message to an old friend of mine, Senator Beeri, and she has heard rumours that the emperor intends to consolidate his power, and any dissidents within the senate will be silenced,”

“A weapon?” Obi-Wan mused quietly, looking away from the camera and back to Bail. The Senator simply shrugged,

‘Whatever it is,” Breha said, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention back to her, “we can’t ignore it,”

“Yes, and if we are to move, it would seem that it now has to be before then,” Obi-Wan muttered, in agreement.

“Hey! Are you going to buy that?” the Toydarian vendor hovering behind the stall cut in, annoyed.

Obi-Wan looked back down at the camera in his hands, and in a quick decision, handed over the credits. As the vendor took the camera and wrapped it up, Obi-Wan turned back to face his friends,

“We got our work cut out for us,” he said, and Breha laughed, tilting her head back to look up at the hazy blue sky above them, the smoke from food stalls bringing varied and tempting smells with it,

“When do we not?” she replied as the shopkeeper tapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder and handed him the boxed camera,

“Thank you,” he said to the vendor before moving on, falling into step with Bail,

“We’ll keep an ear out for anything more that we hear. Yoda gave us the encrypted contact codes, we’ll use them as soon as we can,” Bail promised,

‘Alright,” Breha said then, with cheer, “that’s enough politics for one day,”

“You’re married to a politician,” Obi-Wan reminded her with a wry smile. She nodded, reaching up to Bail’s face with a hand and patting his cheek,

“Ah yes, but that means I get to tell him when to stop talking,” she joked as Bail smiled fondly back at her.

With plans to meet back at the shuttle, the group split up, Obi-Wan making his way over to a general goods store he had seen when they entered the market district, that proclaimed to have everything a sentient could need.

Thirty minutes later and many, many credits poorer, Obi-Wan placed his hands on his hips as the vendor offered to have everything delivered to his ship for free, probably due to the massive paycheque he had just made. Looking over the bags of specialty foods, drinks, general clothing, baby clothing, baby toys, and a real wooden crib much larger than the one they had currently, with mattress and soft toys included, Obi-Wan accepted, leaving the shop as Bail and Breha came back to him, comparatively empty handed.

They ambled back to the shuttles, Obi-Wan taking the meat skewer Bail had bought for him gratefully, hungry after so long without food, enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived back in the port as the temperature and humidity rose about them, and the shop workers arrived, and started loading the new ship’s cargo bay with Obi-Wan’s new purchases as directed by him.

“Well, my old friend, I’ll miss you,” Bail said, walking over to Obi-Wan, holding out a hand that Obi-Wan turned towards and grasped warmly,

“You could still come back with me,” he suggested, though he knew it wasn’t an option, as Breha walked back out of the shuttle and over to them,

“You know as well as I do that we can’t do that,” Bail replied softly,

“I do,” Obi-Wan replied, looking between the two of them. Breha walked forward then, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she hugged him,

“You take care of yourself,” she said, her mock-stern voice not completely hiding the tension in it,

“Oh, I always do,” he answered glibly, and Bail raised an eyebrow,

“Is that why you have a new cut on your cheek and a new hole in your shoulder?” he asked, Obi-Wan laughing in response,

“Ah politicians, never could stand their constant arguments,” he said, his smile softening the words,

“We’ll send word as soon as we can,” Breha repeated Bail’s earlier promise, hooking her arm through her husband’s, “we should get going now though,” she looked up at Bail who nodded, laying his hand over hers,

“May the force be with you both,” Obi-Wan said, meaning it, praying for it, studying their faces as a part of him struggled to let go of these, his friends,

“And with you, Obi-Wan,” Bail replied, raising his hand as he turned around and the couple walked away from the jedi and into the interior of the shuttle. 

Obi-Wan watched as the banged-up ship that had ferried them safely from Coruscant and onto the passenger cruiser retracted its ramp, the engines powering up. He stepped back as the shuttle propelled itself skywards, the undercarriage pulling back in and with a loud rumble, the shuttle shot forwards, and Obi-Wan lost it to the haze and clouds that hung low over the city.

Setting the anxiety in his heart aside, Obi-Wan turned back to see that the workers had finished loading up the ship, the senior assistant coming to him for a signature. Scrawling something on the datapad, Obi-Wan waited until they were away, and was about to enter the shuttle, when one of the droids working for the merchant parked next to him dropped their load with a massive crash, its contents spilling out onto the ground around it.

The ship the droid had come from was a merchant class vessel stamped with the galactic seal of trade. In one of the trays on the ground lay a broken little droid that Obi-Wan recognised as a training tool for engineers and ship builders, as he had gotten it for Anakin’s eighteenth birthday because it provided almost endless tinkering opportunities, though it was not common for masters to gift their padawans anything after their thirteenth.

Obi-Wan approached the merchant, who was a large Twi’lek shouting at his droids as they scrambled to pick up the items,

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan said, the Twi’lek stopping his rant and looking up,

“What do you want?” he asked, gruff,

“That droid,” Obi-Wan pointed to it, “how much?” the merchant looked up in confusion,

“It is broken,” he said,

“Yes, I see that, I would still like to buy it,” Obi-Wan replied and the merchant gestured outward with his hands,

“Ah, I had planned to reuse it for our other parts,” he frowned,

“I can offer you ten credits,” Obi-Wan said, knowing he could get it for half that on Coruscant. The merchant smiled then, just as the master jedi had expected,

“Deal,” he said, and Obi-Wan handed over the money.

Picking up the droid, and the box it sat in, Obi-Wan was pleased to note there were lots of scraps in the box, and all of them were salvageable. With this last purchase, Obi-Wan turned back to the shuttle and walked up the ramp. He sealed the airlock behind him and opened the cargo hatch in the floor of the shuttle to store the droid with all the other supplies he had bought, checking that nothing else untoward had been added to it.

Satisfied, he pulled himself up onto the main deck and made for the bridge, his heart soaring.

It was time to head home.

* * *

The path that Anakin had been following was long, and more than thirty lights had come on as he walked down the corridor, with another one appearing in front of him just as he was leaving the light from the last.

The corridor itself was beautiful, the rock enchanting. The more Anakin studied the black and white the more details he saw in it. The black was not as solid as it had looked. As Anakin studied it below his feet, and in the bright light directly near the force lamps, he saw there were multiple pigments woven into the black – purple, blue and indigo with a hint of deep, deep red. The white also seemed to flicker with all the colours of the spectrum if Anakin stopped and stared at it.

He didn’t know how long he had been walking for and didn’t particularly care, enchanted as he was by the feel of the place, by the power coming off every facet of the caverns he was in. The force around him was distracting in its power, different from the usual quiet hum of the planet. Something was pulling him, taking him deeper and deeper into the tunnels.

The bond too, was getting brighter and harder to ignore, making him feel like his body was almost moving without his input, as his mind floated in the force, and Obi-Wan’s signature simmered at the edge of his own, still shielded from him but power flowing freely between them.

Finally, the corridor started to change, the stone turning to a deep, dark azure streaked with pink tinged stone as it sloped upwards. Panting with the effort of the climb Anakin used the walls for extra traction as the corridor narrowed with every degree of elevation, using them to help him make his way through, as a rumbling and rushing sound reached him and grew louder. Just as the floor turned up almost vertically, fresh air hit him, and Anakin stopped and stared in wonder.

He had emerged into a cavern, the roar of falling water drawing his eyes up to the top of it, the roof nearly thirty metres above him. There, the cavern opened into a jagged tear that revealed a kaleidoscope of colours in the sky beyond it.

From it, water cascaded into the cavern, with a thunder that would have been deafening if Anakin hadn’t be standing nearly another thirty metres from the bottom, as he followed the waterfall to see that it ended in a lake, within which one of the same lights that he had been following this whole time was glowing. 

“You aren’t being serious?” Anakin muttered aloud, looking at the water, as the sound and smells around him filled his senses,

 _Come, child,_ the voice insisted again,

“That’s a long drop,” Anakin said, wondering why he was arguing with a disembodied voice in his own head before he shrugged the thought away.

_Come, child._

Anakin sighed, and pulled himself up to stand on the ledge, teetering over it as the wind generated by the falling water pushed and pulled at him. Taking a deep breath, Anakin leaped off the edge in a graceful dive, the sound of water and wind rushing past him as euphoria surged through him and the bond burned in his mind.

He hit the water with force, the shock of the cold going through him, and then the cacophony of sounds were silenced.

Underwater, another lamp lit itself, and Anakin swam towards it, the current taking him quickly in its direction, as yet another light lit ahead of the previous.

Just when he was starting to worry that he might actually drown down here, the support of the water around him was gone and he was falling, tumbling through the air as he drew in grateful breaths.

His yell of surprise echoed around him, and then he was back underwater, sinking, a light floating up ahead.

For a moment, he simply allowed the momentum to carry him downwards, until he came to a stop.

With a burst of energy, he pushed himself towards the light and surfaced, gasping. Wiping water out of his eyes, the taste fresh and clean, Anakin blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was in another cavern, this one much smaller, the outlet from which he had fallen only around five meters above the lake in which he was floating, water still pouring in behind him.

What caught his attention, however, was what was outside the lake.

Evenly spaced around the edges of the cavern were the same lamps he had been following, and directly in front of him, around twenty metres from where he was treading water, stood a large altar carved from the same white and black stone of the corridor, up on the shore.

The difference to the cavern here, however, was that the walls were a deep black that absorbed the light from the lamps, and had what Anakin thought must be small crystals in it, to create the effect of a thousand diamonds on a black velvet cloth.

Striking out for the shore, Anakin swam efficiently, his boots hitting the bottom as he pushed himself up, water spilling off his clothes as he emerged from the small lake, the sounds behind him dimming as though he had passed through a curtain, though no physical barrier existed.

The ground beneath him was made of a soft white sand, finer than any Anakin had seen before, and now he was standing on solid earth, he realised there was something here with him.

A presence that moved as he did, drawing him towards the altar, welcoming him.

“I take you it your brought me here?” Anakin asked, and felt the confirmation in the force around him.

He stopped directly in front of the altar, the stunning contrast of black and white stone even more beautiful in the brightly illuminated room,

 _I wished to gaze upon you, child of the force,_ the voice whispered, and Anakin felt a breath of air on his neck, and he shivered as the temperature dropped around him, his wet clothes clinging to him.

He tried to reach out with the force but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t respond.

Tamping down his initial panic, Anakin stayed calm.

“Well I’m here now,” he said, evenly,

 _Yes…look into the waters, Anakin Skywalker,_ the voice commanded, and Anakin realised then that the altar was a basin, filled to the brim, the sloping edges of the bowl hidden by the intricate stonework designs that were carved into the altar. 

He walked forward slowly, until his own face was reflected back at him in the still water.

_Soon I will have to return you to your bond mate, Anakin Skywalker._

_Look._

This time Anakin did startle when he felt a touch over his right shoulder, his heart racing as he spun. The presence grew stronger around him and he was forced back a step, his hip connecting with the stone behind him, even warmer than when he had laid a hand on it in the corridor.

Accepting that he could not fight something he couldn’t see without his powers or his weapon, Anakin turned around slowly and leaned back over the basin, staring at the water.

His reflection looked back at him.

Then, there was no gravity, and he was falling,

And -

Padmé was lying on the ground, unconscious, pregnant, the red glow of fire or lava illuminating her beautiful features.

Obi-Wan was looking up at him with a collar around his neck, tortured, beaten, and starved. 

Luke and Leia, older now, were playing in the sunshine as Obi-Wan chased after them, laughing, as he tackled the giggling pair to the ground.

His mother’s beaten and bloody face was lying on his lap as he held her for the last time.

Obi-Wan was standing on a balcony high above Coruscant, the wind whipping his robes around him, looking over his shoulder, calling for Anakin.

Obi-Wan’s expression was dark with hunger, a breathless sound of pleasure leaving his lips as his eyes fell closed.

Obi-Wan was staring up at him with empty blue eyes, Anakin’s hand on the blade that killed him.

Then -

Anakin closed his eyes, horrified, tearing his consciousness away from the pool of water before the next vision could take shape, becoming aware of the cavern’s cool air as he grounded himself with the white-knuckle grip he had on the heated stone. 

His breaths were lost to the sounds of the lapping water behind him, and the presence that brought him here touched his shoulder and calm spread through him.

When finally, he opened his eyes again, the white glow of the cavern had dimmed, and the water from the altar was gone, the black stone beneath it glinting back up at him,

“What was that?” Anakin asked hoarsely, shivering as the temperature had dropped still further,

 _It is what was, is, will never be and may come to pass_ , the presence answered, moving again, to somewhere on the other side of the altar,

“I don’t understand,” Anakin said, reeling from the images, from the feelings they had produced,

_Understand this, Anakin Skywalker._

The presence pushed and Anakin yelled as he was thrown back into the lake, sinking below the surface before he managed to re-orient himself and emerge spluttering and coughing in the rapidly darkening cave,

_Your choices have and will shape the galaxy._

_When you are ready, I will call for you._

The lights dimmed further and that was all the warning Anakin got before he felt the water move, and he was pulled under into the freezing depths and the inky darkness.

* * *

Quinlan felt exhausted, as he trudged back through the forest, the first light of dawn sending pale and gentle beams of light filtering down through the spaced-out canopy, the kaleidoscope morning sky doing nothing for his mood, no matter it’s beauty.

He had followed Skywalker out of the cabin last night, the force disturbed around them, and his own grasp on his force powers weakening the further they went out. The kid was obviously going through something, but Quinlan wasn’t equipped to deal with it, and frankly, didn’t want to deal with it, especially when his senses were being dulled by the planet.

A planet which hadn’t done anything like this before.

It was fortunate he had spent most of his life hunting and tracking, because his natural ability to remain hidden meant that Anakin didn’t notice him even though he was following much closer than he normally would, the forest quieter without the wind of the previous days. 

He had watched as the former jedi collapsed onto the ground with his head between his knees and felt a stab of guilt, wondering if perhaps he should talk to the boy, if only for Obi-Wan’s sake. He had taken a step forward, about to call out when a swirl of force energy crackled through the air around him, and threw him backwards into a tree, startling the forest into an eerie silence around them.

As he had picked himself up, dazed and winded, he scoured the area for any sign of Skywalker. He had called, he had used the force that had suddenly come back to its usual potent sharpness – he had even climbed a tree to see if he could spot anything unusual.

But the planet had fallen silent again, and he was left with the very unpleasant task of waking the masters with bad news.

He had hurried back to the ship, getting Yoda first, and then going to see Cin, Zobon and Kom. As expected, they were confused and irritated, but he really didn’t know how much better they would have done with keeping track of someone who had _vanished_ into thin air.

He’s not a kriffing miracle worker, and his head and back hurt something fierce from where he had smashed into the tree.

Yoda and hummed and hmphed and finally decided that they would conduct a search of the plateau.

Heading out, Quinlan had taken the northern part of the forest surrounding the temple, and other than three very startled squirrel like creatures, one angry snake like creature and four bites from something that looked like a bird with multitudinous limbs like a centipede, Quinlan was sore, frustrated and still unable to find the fallen jedi.

“Oh kriff this,” he breathed as he came upon the cruiser and rested his forehead against the outside, the cold metal a welcome relief to his throbbing head, days of reduced sleep coalescing to make the Kiffar grumpier than usual,

“No luck have you had, Master Vos?”

Quinlan pulled himself off the cruiser, blinking tiredly at the grandmaster who somehow looked fresh as always in his clean and ironed robes,

“No, master,” Quinlan replied, defeated.

He might not have liked Skywalker at all, but he did not want the kid to die. Or to fall again.

There was another part of him also – a part that he had ignored for most of his life, a part that he had put away and then tied down with iron weights and then wrapped up with steel bars – the part that cared for one Obi-Wan Kenobi more deeply than he should have – that demanded he do something, anything. That part feared what might happen if they couldn’t find Skywalker before Obi-Wan returned.

From his message, he should be only another hour out.

The sun was breaking through properly now, the colours fading to be replaced with a light blue, and the chill of the morning spread to his bones as he pondered questions he didn’t have answers to.

What was the effect of a life bond when the other half went missing?

What happened if the other half died?

Quinlan couldn’t bring himself to consider any of the options that sprang to mind. 

“Strange the planet feels today,” Yoda said, tapping his stick and looking around him, as though he could see the strands of the force that connected all life.

And maybe he could, Quinlan conceded to himself, watching the grandmaster,

“If he’s not here, where could he be?” Quinlan asked and Yoda shrugged,

“Wait, we will, Master Vos. The force acting now is. In time, reveal to us it will,”

Quinlan sighed and dropped down onto a bench he and the padawans had carved the day before.

He had never been very good at waiting.

* * *

Obi-Wan dropped out of hyperspace and directed the new shuttle down towards Razonai, the controls modern and easy to use, even as he felt the force grow in hostility around him, the ship rattling.

Reaching out, Obi-Wan focused on the force around him, and breathed in and out with its rhythm. He had wondered if Razonai would recognise him as its own after he had left, and now tried to open himself up to the flow of the force, to show that he had no ill intention.

As the ship descended, there was a moment where Obi-Wan wondered if he had failed as the force on the planet shuddered, and then just as suddenly, the peace and welcome he had felt before he left surrounded him again, and the ship resumed its trajectory.

Relaxing, Obi-Wan settled back into the pilot’s chair and reached back for the bond after resisting the urge to do so the whole way back from Serenno, trying to break a habit he was falling into more and more with every day.

He was therefore unsettled when no feeling came back from it – no pulse, no warmth, no life – it was as if nothing existed on the other side of his shields.

The jedi master pulled his attention back to the cockpit and refocused on the control panel in front of him, readjusting thrusters and changing direction slightly as the shuttle descended.

There was an overwhelming urge building within him to lower his mental shield – surely once the shield was lowered, everything would be fine, the bond would be fine, he would be able to feel Anakin’s life force – but Obi-Wan tamped that thought down with the same iron will that had pulled him through his days of slavery in the mines of Kadavo.

There was little point in travelling all the way to Serenno, getting shot, rescuing a child, and finally getting a new anonymous, fast and hard to trace shuttle only to crash it on its maiden voyage with them.

The sky was a pale blue as Obi-Wan continued on downwards through the atmosphere, and the vast forests and mountains flew past him. Focusing on the controls, Obi-Wan corrected his course and began to flatten the curve of his flightpath, the temple’s solid square outline coming into view on the plateaued side of the mountain, the crashed cruiser glimmering a bright silver in the morning light.

Entering the landing codes, Obi-Wan slowed the shuttle, and brought it carefully into the hangar within the cruiser, flicking off the engines and shutting systems down, the ship’s metal creaking with the change of temperature and the engine’s whine coming to a halt. 

Only when total quiet fell on the shuttle, did Obi-Wan take a breath, and drop his shields.

Nothing.

There was nothing there.

The golden glow of life that Obi-Wan now firmly associated with Anakin was gone.

Without a sound, Obi-Wan stared at the control panel uncomprehendingly, lost.

For a moment, he was back in the temple on Coruscant, the bodies of the dead jedi around him as he desperately defended the temple, the merciless march of clone trooper’s boots thrumming through his head, a crushing sense of loss and death ringing in the force, a sense that he now felt looming over him once again.

“Obi?”

The human master turned to find Quinlan standing in the cockpit and watching him with concern in his eyes,

“You okay?” the Kiffar asked, and Obi-Wan blinked, the images of the bodies fading as he focused on the man in front of him.

“Where’s Anakin?” he mumbled, dreading the answer even as he could not stop himself from asking. Quinlan seemed to visibly recoil and Obi-Wan almost wished he hadn’t asked,

“We lost him,” Quinlan replied, and Obi-Wan wondered for a moment if his own heart had stopped, before the Kiffar suddenly waved his hands and hurried on, “not like that!” he exclaimed, startling the human, “we just, literally, lost him,” he finished lamely, 

A few more seconds passed before Obi-Wan remembered to breathe again,

“Oh,” he said, relief spreading through him.

Not dead.

Not dead!

“Oh!” he said again, his body going lax as he processed the words fully, as Quinlan reached out and patted him on the back, tugging on his braids with his other hand,

“Sorry,” he said, and Obi-Wan just shook his head, leaning forward and massaging his temples, the last few minutes proving to have drained any of the energy he had regained after his adventures,

“Why did they send you?” he asked, gathering his wits, “you are by far, the worst candidate for any job that relies heavily on communication,” and his words broke the tension, Quinlan’s laugh overcoming the isolation of the bridge, pushing away some of the loneliness the silence in the bond had left him with.

“I kriffing try,” Quinlan muttered, but there was no anger in the words.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow as he thought, his mind whirring into tactical mode, eager to have answers, “so how did you lose Anakin?” he asked, the immediate threat gone, but the empty bond still suggesting that his padawan might not be out of danger,

“Come with me, everyone’s in the temple, Yoda can explain it better 'cause I don't really understand it myself,” Quin motioned towards the exit, and Obi-Wan got to his feet, wincing as his shoulder burned angrily, the pain tabs having worn off,

“You’re injured!” Quinlan called out, a mimicry of Breha, and Obi-Wan immediately regretted not making use of the regenerator in the med bay,

“No, just a scratch,” he said breezily, stopping as Quinlan bodily blocked him from the exit and ran a gentle thumb just below the new cut on his right cheek, courtesy of his mad dash through the swamp forest,

“Is that why I can smell so much blood?” Quinlan asked, his hand dropping away as his sharp eyes ran down Obi-Wan’s form and the human sighed. He had forgotten about the Kiffar’s heightened senses.

“It’s just a blaster wound,” he mumbled, and Obi-Wan knew Quinlan was about to argue when what felt like an axe drove itself through his head, splitting it apart with pain. Groaning, he leaned forward, pressing a hand to his forehead.

As soon as it came, it was gone, and in its place was Anakin’s force signature, almost staggering him with the power of it, a sweet relief filling the cold emptiness that had existed in the bond’s absence.

Acting entirely on instinct, Obi-Wan followed the pull of the force as it wrapped itself tightly around the unshielded bond, slipping past Quinlan who had moved forward at his sound of pain, and he sprinted through the corridor.

Hitting the airlock release button, Obi-Wan threw himself out of the opening before the ramp could even extend, and ran through the familiar halls of the downed cruiser, his feet pounding on the metal grate below him. 

Skidding around the corner as he leaped up the stairs, Obi-Wan hurried past the bedrooms for the exit, the door open in front of him, as he heard Quinlan’s footsteps behind him, trying to catch up.

He was halfway up the path to temple, spotting Yoda and the masters walking towards him, when a water droplet hit him in the face, stinging on contact with the scratch on his cheek.

Coming to an elegant halt, a cloud of dust kicked up by his sudden stop, Obi-Wan looked upwards.

A dark mass had coalesced high above him, in sharp contrast to the pale cerulean of the morning sky, which was otherwise uncluttered by clouds.

Another two drops hit him, and just as suddenly, he was standing in a deluge, and the bond buzzed with proximity, filled with confusion and fear, a yell reaching him from above.

Using the bond as an anchor, Obi-Wan reached up, and yanked the falling figure towards him with a sharp snap of the force, and as the water cascaded down around him, Anakin crashed into his outstretched arms, the two of them rolling down the hill back towards the cruiser as pain flared through Obi-Wan’s chest from the force of the impact.

Coming to a stop in a puddle as more water fell and flowed down the hill, Obi-Wan felt a hysterical laugh leave him. He looked up at the dazed man as Anakin attempted to lever himself up off Obi-Wan, his hands warm through the wet cotton of his shirt as they pushed against his chest,

He asked a question, then, but Obi-Wan didn’t recognise the words, as Anakin continued to stare at him confused and blinking water out of his unfocused eyes as it dripped off him and onto Obi-Wan’s face.

The master jedi simply let his head fall back into the muddy puddle, staring up in joy at Anakin’s face, his cheeks and nose pink from the frigid water, the light framing him in a halo.

The fallen jedi was looking at him like Obi-Wan too, had fallen out of the sky in front of him.

He was about to reach up and touch the golden hair, to move it back from his face, when Yoda’s voice reached him from nearby,

“Welcome you both back, we do,” he said, Obi-Wan twitching slightly at the words and leaving his hand where it was, having completely forgotten they had an audience.

Anakin seemed to deflate then and dropped down to lie fully on top of Obi-Wan, burying his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck completely oblivious to the jedi around them, words streaming out of his mouth, but not in any language Obi-Wan was familiar with. The master jedi flushed as Anakin’s warm breath skimmed across the sensitive skin, his lips soft as they brushed the edge of his jaw, his murmured nonsensical words buzzing like small electric shocks against Obi-Wan’s throat.

Shifting uncomfortably under the heft of the gazes around him, and the physical weight of Anakin on top of him, Obi-Wan struggled to sit up, as the masters simply stood, looking at the pair of them with an air of disbelief, seemingly frozen by the sight,

“Well,” Obi-Wan huffed, finally giving up and letting his head fall back on the wet ground, “looks like you still know how to make an entrance, Anakin.”

* * *

**And Anakin and Obi-Wan are reunited! Though poor Anakin seems to have lost the plot a little bit, but who can blame him. The new council really has their work cut out for them with this pair haha. Looks like between the force and the jedi, the ‘peace’ of the new empire is in danger, and our boys are gonna have to be ready for what they need to do.**

**I am back on placements at the hospital and though I’ve already begun the next chapter, and should be done in a week, I might not be, and don’t want** **to post anything I’m not totally satisfied with - so updates may be slower now.**

**Thanks so much for reading, kudos and comments – I love it all! <3 <3**


	6. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whispers on Coruscant. Resolutions on Razonai. Talking about things. Ignoring other things.

**Chapter 6 – Poison**

**_I wanna love you but I better not touch,_ **

**_I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop,_ **

**_I wanna kiss you but I want it too much,_ **

**_I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison._ **

**\- Poison, Alice Cooper**

Quinlan was the first to move, and Obi-Wan felt no small amount of relief when Anakin was pulled off him by the Kiffar, though it had more to do with how many people had just witnessed Anakin’s behaviour than any protest of the behaviour itself on his part.

He was equally concerned, however, by how roughly Quinlan did it, yanking Anakin off him as though he might have been a bomb rather than a clearly disoriented young man,

“Skywalker, where the kriff have you been?” Quinlan asked, his grip on the back of the wet robes firm, but Anakin didn’t respond and was struggling to use his legs, it seemed.

He sagged in the Kiffar’s grip, and was looking around at the other masters’ faces without recognition in his eyes,

“What’s wrong, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, clambering to his feet as well, grimacing at the mud that caked him from head to toe.

The fallen jedi went still more limp in Quinlan’s hold and laughed out a phrase.

“Heard that language before, I have not,” Yoda said in a contemplative tone, as Anakin tried to move towards Obi-Wan, the words he was speaking composed of gentle consonants and almost no pauses between them, the inflections oddly spaced out in the sentences.

The bond ached with longing and the older jedi moved forward to grasp Anakin’s outstretched hand in his own, the young man falling to his knees as Quinlan let go of him, looking up through long eyelashes, water still dripping off his hair as he babbled on,

“An ancient dialect, perhaps it is,” Yoda said and Kom nodded in agreement next to him as Anakin swayed, his gaze fixed upon Obi-Wan,

“As academically intriguing as all this is, I think we should get him to the medical droids,” Obi-Wan said, a note of resignation in his voice at the sheer frequency they had required those services over the last couple of weeks,

“Correct you are, Master Kenobi, talk later we shall,” Yoda said, turning around to head back to the temple.

The other masters seemed torn between following him and staying to figure out the strange circumstances that had brought Anakin back to them, before they too headed back up the hill, bar Quinlan.

Obi-Wan leant down and draped Anakin’s left arm around his shoulders, supporting the narrow waist with his other arm, Anakin pliant in his grip and melting into his touch.

Obi-Wan successfully fought the urge to do the same and instead tightened his grip as the bond filled with happiness and a sense of completion, using twice the energy to simply getting them moving in the right direction. It was a short trip to the cruiser but with every step a pulse of pleasure rippled across the bond, and Obi-Wan felt the heat of Anakin’s thoughts, jumbled though they were, the younger man turning to whisper into his ear in the foreign language as they stumbled forward together.

He could hear Quinlan grinding his teeth behind them and though he wasn’t sure frustration was the right emotion for this situation, he was worried – he had never before heard of someone materialising several hundred metres in the air as if time, space and the laws of physics didn’t apply to them.

It was par on course for a life lived with Anakin, though.

They stumbled through the entrance of the cruiser together, Anakin continuing to talk with passion, and Quinlan’s force presence growing more incensed behind them. Obi-Wan ignored both in favour of focusing on walking, overloaded as he was by both sensory inputs and a mental onslaught that he could not shield himself from, the bond bright and irrepressible in his mind. 

Finally, they entered the medbay and Obi-Wan deposited Anakin on a bed, stoically overlooking the whining sound he made aloud and the disappointment that flooded the bond as Quinlan scowled at the man,

“I know you’re irate at having lost him, Quin, but you can glare after he’s medically cleared,” Obi-Wan chastised him, exhausted, as the droid rolled over and immediately got to work.

It was impeded by Anakin several times as he weakly tried to follow Obi-Wan, who had walked over to a chair and dropped into it, facing the bed. Quinlan accompanied him, choosing to stand instead, his back ramrod straight and his arms crossed tightly over his chest,

“He’s a pain in the ass, Obi,” Quinlan said, and Obi-Wan managed a small distracted smile, watching as every biochemical investigation that the robot ran came up with a green light, his worry growing as the droid became more confused and Anakin showed no sign of coherence or lucidity, and failed every cognitive test.

As time crept on, Quinlan seemed to relax, taking the seat next to him, quiet but alert, and once again Obi-Wan was thankful for the company.

The droid informed them they would need to wait another half an hour for the more complex tests to come back, and that Anakin had been put to sleep, so Obi-Wan took the opportunity to take a shower in the med bay and dispose of his soiled garments, Quinlan fetching his jedi uniform from their room.

Clean and changed back into his own clothes, though he had kept the black boots once they came out of the auto-cleaner, Obi-Wan emerged to see that Anakin was awake again, and still confused just as before. The bond flared to supernova brightness when Anakin laid eyes on him, and he managed to get himself off the bed only to fall again, his legs giving out underneath him.

Hurrying forward, Obi-Wan knelt next to Anakin who was speaking rapidly and gripped his wrist, looking up to the droid,

“He is perfectly fine,” the droid stated and Obi-Wan felt a strong impulse to disable it and leave before he tamped that down.

It wasn’t the droid’s fault.

Looking at the bond now, Obi-Wan could see that Anakin’s force signature was still his own, but that there was something that lingered around him, and had been gradually fading since the younger man's return. Perhaps when it was fully gone, Anakin would recover. 

Anakin’s thoughts were also quite disordered, the bond itself hard to get a read on, and difficult to spend too much time looking at, despite the fact that Obi-Wan had left it open. As to why it was still open - well, Obi-Wan simply hadn't been able to re-shield, the bond, even when distorted, still an enticing lure. He would argue in his defence, however, that he was doing pretty well to ignore all the impulses to _touch_ , _hold_ , **_own_** that were coming through as it were, and he was going to count that as a win.

“Perhaps bed rest would be appropriate, given his neurological symptoms?” the droid suggested and Obi-Wan nodded,

“Yes, I’ll take him to our quarters,” he replied, moving to hoist Anakin up,

“I’ll carry him,” Quinlan cut in from behind, gently pushing Obi-Wan out of the way before he not so gently reached down and hoisted Anakin up in an efficient fireman’s carry completely without any preamble, the bond dimming and Anakin calling for help across it, the younger man trying without any success to break the Kiffar’s hold.

Before Obi-Wan could say anything more, Quinlan was already out the door, and, grabbing Anakin’s clean and pressed set of clothes from beside the bed, Obi-Wan followed him out hurriedly.

They met no-one on their way back to their cabin, the rest of the jedi otherwise occupied, and entered their room to find it cleaned and empty.

Quinlan deposited Anakin on the couch unceremoniously, and the young man managed to stay sitting for a second more before he toppled over to the side, his head falling onto the armrest, his feet still on the ground and his body twisted in what looked like an uncomfortable angle. He continued to talk, moving his arms around for emphasis, and as Obi-Wan walked around to crouch down in front of him, he brought a hand to rest on Obi-Wan’s cheek, his gaze locking onto the older man’s, and his tone sincere,

“It might be better to just put him to sleep,” Quinlan said from behind and as Obi-Wan felt another pulse of desire coming off the bond, Anakin’s voice dropping lower and his gaze growing more intense, Obi-Wan felt inclined to agree, embarrassed, mildly scandalised and also ashamed that a part of him was completely fine with what Anakin’s blown pupils and hoarse voice seemed to suggest.

Reaching forward, he pushed Anakin’s hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear as the younger man all but purred under his touch.

Closing his eyes and centring himself, he reached across the bond, fighting past the initial turbulence until he had a tentative grip on the other's force signature. Under the onlsaught of emotions raging through Anakin's mind, Obi-Wan held onto his logic and ability to reason by a single strand of self-control, and summoned his last reserves.

With a herculean effort, he commanded:

_Sleep._

Anakin's signature calmed immediately, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see that Anakin had closed his own, his hand falling off Obi-Wan’s cheek, coming to rest on his shoulder.

Moving back, Obi-Wan swung Anakin’s legs up onto the couch so that he was lying on his side, and lifted his head up onto a cushion, draping the blanket sitting on the back of the couch over him.

Feeling off-kilter from the aftermath of that emotional storm, Obi-Wan swallowed and focused on the present, sweeping aside all his own emotional responses with practised ease, made even easier by the fact that Quinlan was in the room. 

With a protracted sigh, Obi-Wan got back to his feet. The bacta patches on his shoulder stretched as he moved, and reminded him of how tired he actually felt, as Quinlan watched him with an unreadable expression.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, Obi-Wan too tired to come up with intelligent conversation, and Quinlan contemplative.

The Kiffar seemed to be searching for the right words, before he finally said, “We haven’t unloaded the new shuttle yet,” and Obi-Wan accepted the words as the distraction they were meant to be,

“Ah well, two jedi masters should be able to manage if we remain undisturbed,” he replied, glancing over to Anakin. With the bond open, he was sure he would notice if the younger man woke, and they were not going very far, so he looked back to Quinlan and gestured for him to lead the way,

“So how did you end up injured, in a total break from the usual course of a mission?” Quinlan asked as they walked out the door,

“Ah, you know me, just can’t avoid trouble,” Obi-Wan replied to the Kiffar’s back as they walked past the cockpit and headed down the stairs,

“No, I know,” Quinlan replied, a note of something darker in his voice, which Obi-Wan ignored, not in the mood for a serious conversation,

“But I’m back, Bail and Breha are on their way to Polis Massa, and we’re still in with a chance to win,” Obi-Wan summarised, a sceptical laugh leaving Quinlan as they weaved around the storage crates and walked through the hangar door,

“Right, winning,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

They approached the shuttle, the airlock open in front of them, and Obi-Wan called over a service droid,

“We need help with unloading the cargo bay,” Obi-Wan said, and the droid immediately rolled up the ramp and into the ship,

“Yes Master, I have already begun,” it replied from inside and Obi-Wan nodded as they followed it in, the cargo bay doors indeed open.

With a little more stiffness than usual, Obi-Wan jumped down, relying on the force to cushion his fall as Quinlan did the same behind him,

“Ah good, you took the perishable items,” Obi-Wan said, nodding in approval to see that all the requests from the masters and padawans were already sorted,

“Yes Master. I left the infant’s things in case you wanted them to go somewhere other than general storage,” it replied from the floor above,

“Good,” Obi-Wan said as it lowered itself into the bay.

He walked over to the last pile of boxes, taking the two smaller ones off the top containing the droid and the polaroid, and pointed to the rest, “take all of these to mine and Master Vos’ quarters on the main floor,” he instructed, and the droid immediately moved forward to lift the large rectangular box on top,

“Is that a wooden crib for Luke and Leia?” Quinlan asked, looking back at Obi-Wan in surprise. The human master scratched the light stubble on his jaw, tucking the smaller boxes under his arm as he walked back to the ladder, the droid using it’s little boosters to carry the box out in front of him,

“I might have gotten a little carried away,” he responded with mock innocence, even though he didn’t regret a single purchase,

“Well, I’d agree with you if I didn’t think they deserved to be spoiled,” Quinlan replied and Obi-Wan waited for him to climb up as well, the Kiffar moving with the agility of the well-rested and uninjured, a state of being Obi-Wan missed terribly,

“They’ve had a hard start to life,” he agreed, walking back down out of the new ship, the worry from his landing and Anakin’s strange behaviour starting to fade as his customary optimism settled in his mind once again, and he focused on the present and what he could change,

“They’re lucky to have you though,” Quinlan replied and Obi-Wan glanced over to him, his chest warming at the open regard in Quinlan’s eyes, “I’ve said this before but you really were the master that all the padawans wanted to have,” he added and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“I don’t believe that,” he replied, their footsteps rattling the grate below them as they slowly progressed down the utility corridor, the bond still calm and restful in his mind, “I had one and a half padawans and look where they ended up,” he said, a note of sadness entering his voice despite his earlier resolution to try and focus on the present,

“Obi-Wan, Ahsoka’s fate was…out of our control,” Quinlan said, laying a warm hand on his shoulder as they rounded the corner and climbed the stairs, “and I’ll remind you that you saved your actual padawan from certain death and darkness. There are no other masters who can claim the same,”

Obi-Wan reached up and patted the hand, Quinlan withdrawing it as they walked past the hatch that led to the cockpit and into the bedroom corridor, 

“Now,” Quinlan said, pointing to the right, his tone brightening, “I’m sure the children have missed you, they’re in Yoda’s room,” and Obi-Wan immediately changed direction, turning towards the grandmaster’s suite,

“I have missed them too,” he admitted quietly, as they knocked on the door.

There was quiet for a moment before it opened and a droid looked out,

“Master Vos, Master Kenobi,” it said, moving back as the jedi entered, “the children are awake, do you desire to see them?” and Obi-Wan nodded, moving towards the makeshift metal crib sitting by the couch. 

As soon as he lay eyes on them, he forgot about all his problems for a brief moment, their bright blue eyes focusing on him, Leia reaching out a hand with a very gentle force tug, clearly a demand to be picked up.

He tapped her on the nose lightly, and said “just one moment, little miss,” amazed at the sheer power the two-week-old infant had at her command, and set the two packages down onto the coffee table next to the crib,

“What are those, then?” Quinlan asked, his attention drawn away from Luke and towards Obi-Wan.

The human jedi picked up the top parcel, in which lay the polaroid, “I got something for you,” he said, handing it over, Quinlan’s eyes wide with surprise,

“What, why?” he questioned, looking between the present and Obi-Wan,

“Because everyone had asked for something special and personal to be brought back when I went to Serenno, and you didn’t have anything under your name,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “I thought you might appreciate it?” he added as an afterthought, starting to get more uncomfortable as Quinlan stared back him, still clearly stuck between wanting the gift and the jedi way.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, then, “don’t tell me you’re going to stand on the Jedi code now. Open it!” he encouraged, nudging the box in the Kiffar’s hands.

Letting out a huff of mock insult, Quinlan did just that, untying the rough cotton rope on the outside and lifting the lid.

For a moment his face was completely blank, then he looked up slowly at Obi-Wan, a smile spreading across his face, “A polaroid camera?” he asked, dropping the lid onto the floor to stare at the camera in its wrappings and Obi-Wan smiled back at him,

“Seeing as your one was destroyed after Dooku,” he explained, as Quinlan lifted it out of the box with gentleness that Obi-Wan had rarely seen him display, carefully dropping it’s packaging to the ground as he examined it, “I know you carried it with you since you left Kiffu, and the colour and model is different on this one, obviously, though I think it works almost the same. I thought you might…enjoy…having it again,” Obi-Wan trailed off, feeling slightly foolish as he tried to explain the impulse buy, until Quinlan looked back up, gratitude in his eyes,

“My mother – she -”

“I know,” Obi-Wan cut him off gently, knowing how painful Quinlan’s past was and not wishing to make him relive it, and was therefore startled into a laugh as the Kiffar roughly pulled him into a hug,

“No, I don’t think you do,” he replied, moving away from Obi-Wan with a range of emotions passing across his face, “but thank you,” and Obi-Wan smiled back,

“We’ve had a bad couple of weeks,” he shrugged again, “everyone else had food or drink or items that would make their life more comfortable. I thought you deserved that too,”

Quinlan grinned as he started to play with the settings.

Satisfied that he had chosen well, Obi-Wan turned back to the crib, Leia once again pushing with the force in a technique not mastered by many four or five-year-old children, and he acquiesced, picking her up and kissing her forehead,

“You really are rather advanced for such a small one Master Leia,” he said, balancing her on his right hip as Luke cried,

“Oh yes, you too, Master Luke,” he reassured the child, turning back and reaching out with the force himself to bring the babe to him, cradling Luke in his other arm, both children smiling at him and waving their tiny fists around, “did you miss me?” he asked them, his heart full, the babies babbling at the sound of his voice.

All three of them blinked in surprise when a flash went off, and Obi-Wan looked up.

Quinlan had the camera pointed at him, “you brought me a camera, I’m going to take pictures," he said in explanation,

“Fair point,” Obi-Wan replied, looking back down at the babies, “and I was going to ask if I may have a picture of the little ones, so that will do nicely,” he added, the polaroid spitting out a blank white square piece of photo card with shadowy images developing.

They spent another half an hour or so with the twins, Obi-Wan embarrassed at the besotted look on his face in the picture, but glad that both Luke and Leia’s faces were clearly highlighted, turned towards the camera. He had wanted a photo of them by themselves too, so he also asked Quinlan to take another of the two of them lying next to each other in the crib.

Placing the photos into the hidden internal breast pocket of his robes, Obi-Wan and Quinlan then took over from the droid, and had finished cleaning and feeding the babies by the time the door opened and Master Yoda walked in, 

“Greetings,” he called, Obi-Wan having just covered both sleepy and satisfied twins with a blanket,

“Hello Master Yoda,” he said as Quinlan raised a hand from the kitchen where he was washing the bottles,

“Well, is young Skywalker?” he inquired, looking to Obi-Wan.

The bond had not alerted him, suggesting Anakin was still in a deep sleep, so Obi-Wan shook his head as he walked away from the crib,

“He is medically clear, but he was still speaking in that strange language when we got him to our quarters, and the bond was – uh-” Obi-Wan floundered, unsure of how much detail he was ready to divulge given he himself had neatly swept all his feelings under the rug of repression with a firm decision to leave it there,

“Changed,” he finally settled on, though from the narrowing of Yoda’s eyes it was probably not a successful avoidance,

“Hmm interesting that is, strange the force has been these past days,” Yoda said, his ears flicking back and forth as he thought, “later with Skywalker I will meet,” he declared, turning back to the door, “with the council we must talk with now, debrief your trip to Serenno we will,” and Obi-Wan nodded.

Handing over the infant’s care to the service droid, Obi-Wan and Quinlan followed Yoda out of the grandmaster’s quarters and to the meeting room.

The new council was full of questions, which Obi-Wan answered to the best of his ability, disclosing everything that happened on Serenno, producing sounds of surprise and disgust at the expected points of the story, particularly when he told them of the ransomed child.

He then recapped to them what Bail and Breha had heard from their contact in the senate, and Yoda and Zobon had nodded solemnly, both of them elaborating about their own contacts on Coruscant and other inner rim worlds, hearing much the same,

“So, essentially, we must be prepared to stop Palpatine’s weapon in less time than we spent chasing _him_ , the mystery sith, around the galaxy these last decades?’ Kom asked, unimpressed, and Obi-Wan had to admit he had a point,

“Study the force we must,” Yoda said, “change in the future there is. Linked to Skywalker it has always been these last years,” he stated with an odd curve of his lips, as though he knew bringing up Anakin would be controversial.

Obi-Wan tried not to fidget as most of the gathered masters glanced his way with murmurs of agreement, as no one could deny it.

Biased though he was, he had felt that link to Anakin in the shadowy future that the force illuminated for him for many months now, and wasn't surprised to hear the grandmaster say the same. There was something brewing in the force around them, both greater and more powerful than all the other events that had come to pass – a something that had the taste of destiny about it.

“So, what _is_ the plan then?” Zobon asked, drawing them back to the actual problem of how to fight the most powerful person in the galaxy.

“We will have to wait for Bail and Breha to give us more information,” Quinlan said reasonably, looking around, “now we know the time frame we have to work in, we can change the way we train the younglings,” he paused, thinking, “but we still have so many questions about the how, where, and why of it all,”

“Yes, and then there remains the question of what exactly do we want to achieve,” Obi-Wan said, drawing everyone’s eyes back to him, “Are we trying to recapture the temple on Coruscant? Do we want to storm the new imperial palace and capture the sith and his conspirators? Or do we want to kill Palpatine?” he asked, the heavy questions dropping like a stone, all the masters contemplative.

“It has never been the jedi way to kill,” Kom said after a few seconds of silence, with reluctance,

“Though that certainly didn’t stop us these last years,” Zobon said, a hint of distaste in his tone and Obi-Wan remembered that his own perspective, as one of the main generals and tacticians of the clone wars, was very different to many of the jedi, who had openly opposed their heavy participation in warfare.

“And we’ve tried assassination from the inside, it doesn’t work,” Quinlan added darkly and Obi-Wan wished the Kiffar hadn’t found that out first-hand, the questionable decisions of the council once again the crux of their problems, 

“We must have evidence of Palpatine’s wrongdoing if we intend to put the man to trial, as is appropriate,” Cin said, from across the table, “if you watch the holo-news, the whole galaxy thinks he’s a god, a saviour who ended the war,” Cin’s face twisted with disgust, “they think the jedi are traitors. We have to prove we’re not,”

“But who cares what people think of us?” Quinlan asked, and Cin frowned,

“If we are to train force-sensitive children and rebuild our order, if we are to keep balance in the force, to act as the peacekeepers we should have been, then we need the trust of the people. We broke that trust by becoming the face of the war that tore our galaxy apart. We have to show them we’re not going to do that again,” Cin explained, and Quinlan grimaced, backing down,

“He’s got a point, Quin,” Obi-Wan agreed, looking at the Kiffar, “we were not very good peacekeepers, recently,” he admitted, and regret showed on all faces, the weight of the actions of an entire order on their shoulders as the last of their people, “but we can return to the way things were supposed to be,”

“It is true,” Zobon said, nodding sadly, “we became too involved in senates and governments and policies. Jedi were never meant to lead a war, only to stop it before it took lives and destroyed civilisations,”

“We lost our way,” Kom agreed, as Yoda watched quietly, Obi-Wan feeling the pain reflected in the grandmaster’s eyes as he, too, had agreed to many plans, and many missions, against his better judgement. They had taken many seemingly insignificant deviations from the path of light, all for the greater good, and so it had brought them to where they were today,

“Do we agree, then, that we have to move on Coruscant, once we have enough evidence to bring Palpatine to trial?” Quinlan asked, looking around the room,

“No small task this will be,” Yoda said, drawing everyone’s attention back to himself, “but do it we will. Trust in the force we will,” and Obi-Wan and all those gathered nodded their ascent, with murmured words of acceptance.

“And how is Skywalker, after his excursion?” Cin asked as the voices died down and they looked to Obi-Wan.

The master did his best to clarify what he thought might have happened – that the force around Anakin was changed, and that it seemed he might have had no control over it, though he didn’t understand what creature or person could have the power to do this.

Yoda described other such cases of disorientation, and went on to explain that they always followed massive force power usage, contact with ancient force entities, or being around planets that were strong with either the light or dark side of the force, though the information they had was scarce and incomplete.

Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought of yet another force entity chasing Anakin around, as it did on Mortis, but acknowledged that being the force’s chosen one did tend to come with a propensity for such things.

Once many ideas were put forward, and Anakin’s symptoms discussed, it was decided that the fallen jedi would continue to remain with Obi-Wan and Quinlan under close watch, and his condition would be reviewed by Yoda once he was lucid and functioning again, with the intention of him being evaluated for a return to service, if deemed stable enough.

Obi-Wan was pleased to note that some of the masters’ hostility from the last meeting was gone, as their world opened up beyond the halls of the temple once again. With the very real threat of a sith weapon hanging over them, the other masters were now willing to accept Anakin into their plans –any able bodied jedi, even if fallen, was better than no jedi at all.

Obi-Wan tried not to resent the other masters for this begrudging acceptance, giving his latent anger to the force instead. They had a right to be distrusting and angry, and they had a reason to treat Anakin as a tool rather than a real person who had chosen wrongly and suffered for it. 

As the masters agreed they would meet again once they had more information from the Organas, Obi-Wan hoped that this initial agreement for co-operation would turn into trust and acceptance as Anakin showed them what Obi-Wan already knew – that he had repented, and that he would not fall again, even if his struggle with the dark side may never be truly over. 

With that, the meeting broke up, and Obi-Wan felt tiredness pull him down with every step he took.

He followed Quinlan back to their quarters in silence, and didn’t protest when Quinlan gently pushed him towards the bed. 

The sun was shining brightly outside but Obi-Wan lay down, noting the little training droid’s box that he had brought up from the cargo bay was sitting on the bedside table, and Anakin was in exactly the same position he had left him in, the bond still peaceful in his head.

As Quinlan moved about the cabin, Obi-Wan felt his eyes slide closed.

He just needed to rest for a little bit.

* * *

Anakin rolled over and sighed, the image of Obi-Wan, soaked to the bone and covered in mud amusing him, as he opened his eyes, the warm yellow light of evening streaming in and bouncing around the cabin.

For a moment, Anakin remained as happy and calm as the open and satisfied bond was.

Then he distinctly remembered the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin against his mouth, and the responding shock from Obi-Wan, and any peace he might have once had was thoroughly shattered as he sat straight up in alarm, raising a hand to his head with a muted groan as the room spun around him.

Once his vision steadied, he glanced around, feeling Obi-Wan nearby, and was gratified to see that he was lying on the bed, covered with a blanket, and in deep slumber.

Sighing in relief that they didn’t have to deal with his actions straight away – it always _his_ actions that brought the most trouble down on them – Anakin sighed and leant back against the couch, running a hand over his face as memories of his near drowning, and then terrifying tumble straight onto Obi-Wan coming back to him in flashes.

He was acutely aware that he had been babbling, but that no-one had seemed to understand him.

Force, he was so glad no one had understood him.

Why would all his inhibitions be taken away from him like that, Anakin questioned, as he got to his feet and looked around the room for his robes, disliking the loose hospital clothes he had on. Walking over the closet, he was pleased to find them clean, dry and neatly folded, picking them up and heading to the fresher, feeling dirty despite the clean the med droids must have given him.

As he stepped under the spray, he thought back to the caverns, the now vague memories of the visions the force entity had shown him stirring up some anxiety but not enough to overcome the pleasure of the hot water.

He didn’t understand why the being had taken him in the first place, and though he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea, he knew he would have to go and talk to Master Yoda if he were to get any clarity on what, if any, authenticity those vision had.

They had felt real enough at the time, he thought, scrubbing his head with the shampoo, and yet there such was a feeling of unreality about the whole experience itself, that if he hadn’t had such sharp and clear recollections of being draped over Obi-Wan, confessing his undying love and devotion to Obi-Wan, and then asking for permission to kiss Obi-Wan, he would have thought the whole thing a terrible dream conjured by a tired and exhausted mind.

As it was, he _had_ thought all those things of his former master, the bond very unhelpfully amplifying feelings he had thought he had dealt with in his teenage years.

As he got out of the shower and grabbed the towel off the railing, he stared at his reflection in disappointment.

He had loved his wife faithfully. He had never looked at another being with desire since they had made vows to each other on Naboo.

The love he had for Obi-Wan was different, however, and it had persisted through his short years of marriage. In many ways it more encompassing that his singular focused love for Padmé had ever been, and once he had met the beautiful senator again it was easy to put everything he felt for Obi-Wan down to a childhood crush, re-assign Obi-Wan to a platonic shelf of his heart, and get on with his life, rather than running after a man who was married to their order and to their oaths.

Anakin leaned on the sink, studying the scar over his eye, a new bruise blossoming over his lower jaw, no doubt from when he was tossed around in the waters earlier.

It seemed he was destined to have simple things complicated.

He’d like to blame the bond solely, but even he had enough insight to see that the bond was only bringing to the fore emotions he had always felt.

It was Obi-Wan’s choice of him, an _unconditional_ choice to save him above everything else, that fulfilled a part of his soul that still felt like a nine year old slave who had stood in a room full of strangers and felt unwanted– a feeling which only grew with the knowledge that his master, Obi-Wan, hadn’t chosen him as his apprentice either. 

Anakin was ashamed at how much that begrudging acceptance had hurt him, though Obi-Wan was the best master a padawan could hope for, and never made Anakin feel anything less than worthy, while other masters certainly tried.

Now, it was as if Obi-Wan choosing to create the life bond healed a wound Anakin had let fester, and in doing so, unlocked the box of feelings the fallen jedi had quite purposefully sealed up and hidden away.

The images of Obi-Wan playing with Luke and Leia came back to him as he threw the towel in the linen bin and reached for his tunic, having to take a breath at the longing conjured by how much he wanted that future to be a possibility.

Obi-Wan was everything to him, and though he had seen them only once, he loved his children with every fibre of his being.

He _knew_ this was unhealthy, Obi-Wan’s previous words coming back to him for the hundredth time. He knew that if something did happen to Obi-Wan, which, given that they were the most wanted people in the galaxy was rather likely, he was setting himself up for total destruction.

He couldn’t stop it though.

He pulled his tabard on and reached for his belt, straightening the collar of his tunic.

He didn’t want to stop it.

He pulled on his boots, his wet hair cooling his heated skin as it fell about his shoulders in soft waves.

There was little chance that Obi-Wan felt the same about him, at least not in the same way.

The bond made it difficult to separate Obi-Wan’s feelings and his own, and Anakin was sure that the it was the bond that lit Obi-Wan’s eyes with such affection, more than he had ever directed at Anakin before, rather than his master’s own feelings.

For the first time in his life, Anakin was ready to accept that this was a situation he could do nothing about.

He could not relentlessly pursue Obi-Wan as he had done Padmé. He could not charm a man who had become resistant to them ever since he cottoned on to the fact that Anakin was using it to manipulate more free time, less lessons and less harsh punishments out of his master. He could not charm a man who knew him at his core.

There was also the part of him that feared going after Obi-Wan no matter what the bond or his heart said. He didn’t want to corrupt Obi-Wan as he had done Padmé, and drag him down into the mess his life had become.

He would keep his distance, and keep their friendship, he resolved to himself.

It was the best thing for Obi-Wan, and, as the master jedi was most likely to continue to raise his children, it was the best thing for them too, and he tried to get his treacherous heart to stop feeling the crushing sadness at the thought of being a bystander on the outside of their lives.

Stepping out of the fresher, Anakin’s train of thought was broken as he spotted Quinlan Vos standing next to the bed.

His hand was on Obi-Wan’s shoulder – clearly to wake him up – yet a flash of rage and jealousy ran through Anakin so quickly and intensely he had to physically grip the sleeve of his robes in order to prevent his arm from moving and force throwing the Kiffar out of the room, and possibly off the planet if he could manage it.

He focused on calming his breathing and his force signature so as not to disturb Obi-Wan.

So, the stand-and-watch-as-a-friend resolution was going to be harder than he had initially thought.

Damn it. 

* * *

Obi-Wan smiled as he caught sight of Anakin emerging from the fresher, dressed in full robes and clear-eyed,

“Anakin!” he called, getting to his feet and turning to appraise the younger man,

“Master,” he replied, and Obi-Wan had to swallow around the possessiveness that pulsed across the bond to him, the word affectionate and moderately inappropriate given that Anakin was not even a jedi anymore.

For a moment he wondered if Anakin was still affected by the force-sickness or whatever it was that had him delirious, but as the younger man leaned his hips against the couch, confident and composed, Obi-Wan was reassured that his former padawan was back to himself,

“You had me worried for a little bit,” he said, his voice dropping in register as he examined Anakin’s new bruises, and the tension in his shoulders,

“You worry too much, old man,” Anakin shot back, his mouth curving up slightly, though the humour didn’t reach his eyes and Obi-Wan could feel some agitation in his force signature, buried and controlled,

“And you don’t worry at all,” he replied, falling into their old banter easily, as Quinlan also got to his feet beside him,

“Carefree and careless are definitely appropriate descriptors for Skywalker,” he cut in with a smirk, Obi-Wan turning to glare at him as the agitation on the other side of the bond grew,

“Quin,” he said, waiting until the Kiffar’s gaze was on his, “can we agree to remain civil, at the very least?” Obi-Wan asked, looking between the two of them.

Anakin’s posture and expression didn’t change and Obi-Wan wondered if the younger man would relent at all, but then the tension on the other side of the bond faded slowly.

Quinlan’s jaw tightened before he turned and seemed to come to a decision, turning back to face Anakin, “though you have had many great achievements,” he added, formally.

Obi-Wan accepted that that was as good as it was going to get,

“What were you saying about a meeting?” Obi-Wan asked, changing the subject with a sigh and heading to the door where his boots were, though he didn’t remember taking them off,

“Master Yoda said that we should attend his suite once you were rested,” Quinlan said as he pulled his datapad out of his pocked to put it into the bedside drawer, turning around to face the door,

“You too Skywalker,” he added, and Anakin moved forward as well, coming to stand next to Obi-Wan as he tugged his second boot on.

With Obi-Wan leading the way, they exited their quarters and turned right to make the short trip to Yoda’s suite. The door opened at a knock, and Yoda looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, the coffee table having permanently been moved to the back of the room.

Obi-Wan felt fear run through Anakin and was momentarily alarmed before he deciphered it as being directed at the crib which was sitting nearer to the door than last time, closer to Yoda’s bed. He reached across the bond, sending his comfort to the younger man, and Anakin’s gaze was grateful as they strode into the room.

Lowering themselves to sit on the floor facing Yoda, Obi-Wan made the decision that he was going to rid Anakin of the notion that his children would be harmed by him, if it took him the rest of their lives. Luke and Leia had lost their mother; they were not about to be estranged from their father.

“Master Skywalker, well you are?’ Yoda asked, looking at the youngest member as he arranged his robes about him,

“Yes, Master,” he replied, respectfully, and Obi-Wan felt a moment of pride at the composure in his words, a far cry from the feral creature he had been, even one week ago,

“Good to hear that, it is, ” Yoda replied, his ears flicking forwards, “tell us, can you, where you have been? Concerned for you, we were,”

Anakin nodded, though Obi-Wan felt his apprehension as he prepared himself.

Obi-Wan listened quietly, while Anakin haltingly recounted what was beginning to sound more and more like a targeted kidnapping rather than a random act of the force. Obi-Wan felt his worry grow as Anakin stumbled over the visions, struggling to tell of what he had seen, the bond flaring with remembered pain.

He exchanged a worried glance with Quinlan, who grimaced as if to say he didn’t have a clue what this meant either.

Yoda kept his head tilted and his gaze on the younger man, his ears twitching back and forth the only indication that he too, was disturbed by what he heard.

Finally, Anakin described the fear he had felt as gravity shifted around him, and Obi-Wan was grateful when he ended the story with the confusion, struggle with communication, and then sleep, not willing to discuss what had passed between them in front of Quinlan and the grandmaster just yet, if at all.

He didn’t miss the faint echo of those same feelings across the bond however, or the way that Anakin glanced over at him as he finished. 

They would no doubt have to talk about this later.

Obi-Wan tried not to think of it as avoidance when he reassured himself that they had many other important things to talk about first,

“Thank you, Master Skywalker,” Yoda said, lacing his fingers together as Anakin finished, “interesting that was. Strange has been the day. Chosen you have been always. Vigilant we will have to be,” Yoda finished, nodding,

“Do you know anything more about what might have caused the mental disorganisation?” Obi-Wan asked, and Yoda hummed,

“Look through what little of the archives saved I did,” Yoda said, gesturing to the desk at the back of the room, past the bed, where datapads were stacked, “little information there was,” he looked to Anakin, “force disorientation suffer you did,” he said,

“Will…will it come back?” Anakin asked, unsure, and Yoda shook his head,

“Not likely,” he said, “however, more time for thought require we do. Meditate together we shall. See me after dinner, will you?”

Anakin tilted his head forward, accepting the grandmaster’s offer,

“What would you have us do now?” Quinlan asked, and Yoda hummed,

“Master Kenobi, prepare your quarters for the twins you shall, and help me with some tasks, can you?” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan could not repress his smile at that, happy that the children were coming back to them, even as Anakin radiated unease next to him,

“Master Vos, to Master Kom go you will, clearing the bedrooms on the second floor with the padawans he is,” Yoda said, and Quinlan bowed also, patting Obi-Wan on the back in farewell, and leaving the room,

“Young Skywalker,” Yoda said, and Anakin flinched slightly, clearly expecting to be reprimanded, hands folded in his lap, eyes downcast.

Obi-Wan wished for the thousandth time that he had done something sooner.

The young man did not trust any of the jedi when they were supposed to be his family – Anakin never should have felt so ostracised. It was a shameful lapse in observation on his part, and something that Obi-Wan felt he may never forgive himself for.

“To Master Cin you will go. With the initiates he is, outside the bow of the ship. Help they require with chopping and moving wood,” Anakin looked surprised for a moment before he gathered himself and also bowed.

With one last look at Obi-Wan, he retreated, Obi-Wan wincing as the bond demanded he follow, tamping down on it and focusing back on the grandmaster, whom he found staring at him.

“Changed the force is around you, Obi-Wan,” Yoda said firmly, looking at him and probably seeing straight through him and his façade of serenity.

“It’s…the bond,” Obi-Wan replied, knowing that hiding it from Yoda was only going to lead to more problems later,

“Tell me, you will,” Yoda commanded and Obi-Wan sighed.

He recapped how the bond had disappeared when Anakin had been taken, and then managed to keep his composure as he described as clinically as he could, the feelings that he had to battle when Anakin came back, and how he had eventually put him to sleep, the bond having become almost overbearing.

Yoda let his eyes fall closed as he hummed, and Obi-Wan feared for a moment Yoda was going to suggest something he could not do – like break the bond – but then the master opened his eyes again,

“Dangerous this bond will always be,” he said, as Obi-Wan expected, “but ignore what it is telling you, you cannot,” and Obi-Wan knew he had a look of surprise on his face, probably no different from Anakin’s only minutes ago,

“It’s…it’s so powerful, master,” he said, suddenly wanting to make sure Yoda understood, “I can tell what he’s thinking, I know where he is, it seems to amplify our emotions, and when I thought he was lost…”

“Hmmm,” Yoda replied, “Understand I do. Connected you are more than most other beings in this galaxy. Force entity recognised bond, it did, drawn to the power it probably was. Sealed together you are. Help, I cannot,” he shrugged, “help you need not. Trust the force, you must,” Yoda asserted, maintaining eye-contact with Obi-Wan before he let out a breath, sat back, and closed his eyes again.

Obi-Wan watched him for a few seconds more before he realised that was a dismissal and got to his feet, nodding his head respectfully towards Yoda, as he turned and left the suite, heading for his own quarters.

If Master Yoda said they had to trust their instincts, then Obi-Wan wondered at a possibility he had not dared to approach ever since his desperation had created the bond in the first place.

It felt _right_ to keep the link open, to know that Anakin was there, to be able to reach out with very little effort and know every change of his emotions, and feel what he feels and see what he sees. There may be times where he needed to shield, if only for privacy, but as he thought, Obi-Wan was finding fewer and fewer reasons in support of keeping it blocked off permanently.

As the doors to his quarters opened, said bond spiked with recognition,

“Anakin!” he called in surprise, walking through the door.

The young man had frozen as though he had been caught in the act of something Obi-Wan would have disapproved of, but he was standing near the couch and nothing was out of place, so Obi-Wan was unsure what might have set him on edge.

He seemed to alternate between several decisions, his expression shifting, before he opened his mouth, “I know I was meant to be with Master Cin,” he started, “I just wanted to – er – see you – before – yes,” Anakin said, stumbling over words and flicking his gaze from Obi-Wan back to the floor.

The master had never seen him act like this, and wondered at it before he remembered all the feelings and events of the last couple of hours that he had hoped to ignore at least for a little while longer.

Damn.

“Ah,” he replied, equally useless at this, as he moved more fully into the room, so that he was standing only an arm’s length away from Anakin, unsure what to do.

There was silence for a little while longer, before Anakin seemed to steady himself, “I apologise for my actions, which were out of line, and – and I hope that I haven’t – um, offended you or – or anything,” he stuttered and Obi-Wan blinked, the words of regret very foreign in his former padawan’s voice, who acted without hesitation and stood by his actions, no matter the consequences,

“You – Sorry?” Obi-Wan asked, thrown for a moment, and that, more than anything else, seemed to relax the younger man,

“I know it’s not a phrase I used very often, before,” he said, with a apologetic smile, “but I – I wanted to say sorry, I know I was acting – er – weird before, and it was the bond just making everything – um, worse, and I just – well – you didn’t deserve that,” he finished, scratching the back of his head and scrunching his nose up bashfully.

Obi-Wan found himself smiling at the image in front of him, “You’re right, I haven’t heard that expression from you before,” he said humorously, his eyes alighting on the box with the training droid, lying on the bedside table.

Anakin did laugh then, shaking his head, “I’m trying to be serious,” he said, Obi-Wan feeling Anakin’s gaze on him as he walked across the room to pick up the box.

Turning around he met Anakin’s eyes, “I know,” he replied gently, and Anakin’s smile grew, “this bond…” he stopped as he thought of a way to phrase it, coming around the couch and sitting down, Anakin following his lead and doing the same next to him,

“Is the bond as hard to ignore for you as it is for me?” Anakin asked, searching his face, clearly wanting an answer.

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, Anakin’s proximity once again setting off the damned force around them, calling for more touch and less distance,

“It is very insistent,” Obi-Wan said, in a bit of an understatement, as he shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear it. He also loosened the tight grip he had on the box, but found that he had to keep a hold of it to stop his hand moving towards Anakin’s, wanting the physical connection,

“I’m sorry for that too,” Anakin said and Obi-Wan frowned, focusing back on him,

“No. I’m not,” he stated, looking into eyes he felt he had memorised, the yellow light of the sun only brightening the blue of Anakin’s irises, which darkened as more possessiveness filtered across the bond, though it was obvious Anakin had tried to hide it,

“Don’t – you shouldn’t go ‘round saying things like that,” Anakin said, his cheeks slowly turning red as he drew in a deeper breath,

“I will not have you think for a moment that I regret my actions,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin twitched in his seat,

“Obi-Wan,” he breathed, his eyes wide,

“This is more intense that anything we’ve ever been through,” Obi-Wan said, watching as Anakin fiddled with his robes nervously, “but Master Yoda made an excellent point to me – we can’t change the past and we can’t keep running from the bond…or each other,” the bond flared with happiness as Anakin tilted his head to the side,

“You mean…”

“I mean that I don’t think there’s any point to keeping it shielded all the time,” he admitted even as his logical half revolted at the thought, “we keep fighting it, and all that happens is we open it again and it takes over,”

Anakin nodded slowly, “so if we let it acclimatise, it will be less demanding?” he asked, and Obi-Wan shrugged,

“We should try it,” he said, trying to remind himself that he was doing this for their benefit, for their future, rather than the selfish need within him to stay connected, to have that part of Anakin all to himself,

“Right,” Anakin said with a smile.

Obi-Wan held the box out then, before Anakin could move, “here, I picked this up on Serenno,” he said, handing it over.

Anakin looked at it, “you did? For me?” he asked and Obi-Wan chuckled,

“Oh, let’s not pretend this is a new occurrence,” he said with a raised eyebrow and Anakin flushed slightly, looking back down at the box, both of them knowing precisely how much Obi-Wan had bought for Anakin over the years, no matter how many disapproving looks he got from other masters whose padawans hadn’t gotten a single material thing since their thirteenth birthday.

He opened it and gasped, “a droid!” he cried with the same enthusiasm he did when he was younger, looking back up,

“We might have a lot of down time in the coming weeks, and I thought you’d appreciate something to occupy yourself with,” he said, and Anakin grinned then,

“Thank you master,” he said with a small bow, and Obi-Wan nodded and got to his feet before he followed the urge to pull Anakin into a hug. He walked over to the pile of boxes by the door, keen to maintain some level of normalcy in their relationship, even if the bond and his body was determined to do otherwise, especially now that they were finally getting back to the comfortable relationship they used to have,

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan said, proud of the stability of his voice, “you should get to Cin, and help him out,” he suggested.

Anakin nodded, and stored the droid under the coffee table, getting to his feet. He made his way to the door as Obi-Wan shifted the top box to read the label, seeing that it had the clothes and toys he had bought for Luke and Leia,

“Will you eat dinner with me tonight?” Anakin’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Obi-Wan looked up to find the younger man having paused in the doorway, his body angled towards him as though he had turned back at the last second, 

“Yes,” he replied and though Anakin turned away, he heard the celebration in the bond all the same, and leant forward on the box he had been about to carry as the door shut behind Anakin, defeated.

They might have a plan of attack regarding the issue of a sith lord, but force, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out against Anakin’s guileless sincerity and presence.

Hefting the metal box up with determination, Obi-Wan re-ordered his mind.

No matter what, they were stuck together, and he _was_ going to find a way to get through this and come out the other side with his dignity intact. 

What was wrong with him? Afterall, he could not blame the bond for everything.

He had never felt anything for Anakin other than the appropriate, distant affection of a master for his padawan (albeit perhaps a little more lenient, a little less distant, and a lot more doting than he probably should have been) right up until they had run into Senator Padmé Amidala again in her apartments on Coruscant, and he had left to go investigate Kamino’s clone factories. 

As he left Anakin behind, it was the first time he had felt bitter jealously, Anakin’s attention, which had been on him and him alone for the last ten years suddenly diverted, clearly smitten with the beautiful and intelligent woman.

Disgusted with himself for even feeling the emotion, concerned about his attachment that was suddenly made painfully clear, Obi-Wan had firmly destroyed those emotions and focused on the task at hand.

After Geonosis, glad that he and Anakin were alive, he simply accepted that he would not be the main focus of Anakin’s life, as was proper, and that Anakin still wanting to be around him, still preferring to live with him even after knighthood –their friendship – was enough.

Clearly, the last few weeks had undone all those years of adjustment, and brought up everything he thought he had buried. This fallen, older, somehow lighter, and more open Anakin was having an effect on him he had never thought possible.

He was falling in love with a man who had _married_ a _woman_ and shown exactly _zero_ interest in other men.

The little episode before, Anakin’s eyes dark as they appraised him, was no doubt was an inaccurate reflection of Anakin’s true feelings, created by the bond, or perhaps it hadn’t been directed at him at all, and Anakin had been completely delirious. 

He didn’t doubt Anakin cared for him.

He did however have plenty of reservations about Anakin ever looking at him with such desire without the bond and its never-ending pull on their souls. 

He was _not_ going to take advantage of the situation, betraying Anakin’s trust and then being left bereft at the end of it all, when the pull of the bond eventually fades, and Anakin comes back to his senses and takes away his friendship too.

Sometimes Obi-Wan thought he was extremely lucky.

Days like this though, as he tipped the crate onto the bed, all the new clothes and toys falling out, he wondered if he was perhaps living in a badly written, tragic novel where he was fated to suffer romantically no matter whom he was interested in.

Sorting out the purchases on the bed, Obi-Wan shook his head at his own idiocy and his hopeful heart. 

Friendship.

He had Anakin’s friendship and it had been enough for him before. It would be enough again.

Somehow.

* * *

Bail sighed in relief as the last of the Emperor’s investigators left the large and light filled apartment on Coruscant, the morning sun filtering into it through the layers of smoke and dust as traffic bustled around the never-ending city.

“Gods, I thought they would never leave,” Breha breathed as she dropped onto the couch next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, facing the floor to ceiling windows of their upper city apartment, just outside the senate block, the circular living room being the spectacular centre point of their huge domicile. 

Bail turned to kiss her forehead, throwing his arm around her shoulders as he stretched his neck, tired from two days of travel, and then another two days of questions from varying levels of stupid droids and stupid humans.

All of that was before he had received a harrowing call from the Chancellor, welcoming them back to Coruscant with that simpering and distorted smile. It was only Bail’s unshakable diplomacy that kept him civil, anger burning under his skin as he smiled and made polite conversation with the man who had betrayed them all,

“Bail?” Breha said and the senator looked back to her, realising he must have been staring out the windows without really being present,

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running his other hand over his eyes,

“I know, these have been a long, four days,” Breha said, laying a hand over his heart in a comforting gesture,

“It’s been a long day from the moment Padmé showed up at our door,” Bail replied, but he smiled at his wife,

“Do you regret helping them?” Breha asked, her keen eyes studying him, and Bail’s smile grew,

“No, my love,” he said, amused that she would doubt him, and was pleased when she grinned, all the playfulness of their youth back in her eyes,

“Oh good, I was wondering if I should dress you up in red so you can follow the Emperor around,” she replied and Bail chuckled, moving so that he could stretch his shoulders, and getting to his feet,

“You are lucky I already swept the room for listening devices, my love, or you’d be jailed for high treason,” he said, exiting the lounge room for the bedroom, only slightly smaller, decked out with the ornate wooden furniture and rich textiles found in the homes of Alderaan aristocrats, all of them a mix of his wife’s and his own choices,

“I checked before you did!” Breha called from the lounge and Bail smiled again, as he sat at the desk, opened the top draw and pulled out his senate datapad, no doubt bursting with emails that he had missed on his little ‘vacation’.

Turning it on and setting it on the desk, Bail went to close the draw when he paused, a small blue envelope sitting under where his datapad had been, addressed to _Breha Organa_ , with no postage marks, or anything else on it. 

Reaching into the draw, he picked it up, deciding that if it had been designed to kill him, he would have been dead the minute he had lifted his datapad out,

“Breha!” he called, turning his head back to the door, before he focused back onto the envelope. He heard her come in behind him as he slit it open,

“What’s that?” she asked as she leaned over his shoulder,

“It appeared in my draw,” Bail replied and Breha huffed,

“We certainly do attract all kinds of attention,” she said, as Bail slipped a white piece of synthetic paper out, surprised that anyone had bothered with the expensive material, and at what it must have cost to have it sent to their apartments without leaving a trace.

On the square card, Bail frowned as he read:

_BREHA ORGANA._

_WE KNOW WHO YOU HELPED. WE NEED YOUR HELP._

_CONTACT PILO AT THE MAID’S KEEP._

_YOUR FRIENDS,_

_YELLOW VARACTYL_

He glanced up to look at his wife,

“Why you?” he asked, concerned that these people seemed were not only aware of their aiding the Jedi, but that they wanted to talk about it,

“What do you mean, why me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and Bail glared at her,

“You know what I meant by that. How did they even know we were involved, and why are they specifically asking for you?”

“Perhaps I am less recognisable than the man who appears on several holo-channels at least once a week, ever since we moved to Coruscant,” she replied and Bail nodded, conceding that she did have a good point.

He was nervous though, “I still think-”

“Did we or did we not promise the jedi that we would do everything we can?” Breha asked, glaring down at Bail with a look that he found equally attractive as well as irritating for the stubbornness it represented.

He took in the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes and sighed, reaching out to take her hand, “I am not reneging on our promises,” he said softly, “I am simply worried about you,”

Breha’s face softened and she reached out to cradle his face in her hands,

“I know,” she replied, “but we can’t risk losing a potential ally in a time like this, and the Maid’s Keep is in the lower district, it’s not very far,”

“Very well,” he relented, swivelling his chair back to face the desk, reaching for his datapad. As expected, there were more than a hundred emails, many of them flagged as urgent. The senator ignored them all as he pulled up the security feed of their apartment and the surrounds.

Searching through it, he spotted the shadowy figure he had noted since they arrived back on Coruscant two days ago. He was standing far enough away that if you didn’t pay close enough attention to video feeds, it might look like he was one of the many people who came to the senate district for their various civil complaints and services,

“I see old Tom is still watching us,” Breha said, and Bail rolled his eyes,

“I told you if you name him, you’ll end up wanting to keep him,” he replied sardonically as Breha shoved him lightly,

“Well, I do want to keep him” she said with a laugh, “I want to keep him here while I go out and meet this Pilo,” she leaned over Bail and flicked the feed over to the cameras which watched the basement of their apartment building, where Bail had managed to install an emergency escape route with the help of two other neighbours, without alerting the senate or the local planning office of the changes,

“They still don’t know about the passage,” she said, looking back to him and he nodded,

“True, but it’s risky – anyone could see you leaving,” he frowned, thinking, “I have to be back in the senate tomorrow – I think that would be the best time to go out, because once you’re out of our building and on the street, no-one will take any notice of you, and tomorrow is the first senate re-gathering since this whole mess with the jedi,”

“We’ll have to modify the cameras and cut lighting to the basement if I am to make it out without being caught on camera,” Breha replied, looking at her husband,

“Yes, leave that to me,” he pulled up another program on the datapad, and began to type even as he continued talking, “hopefully this Pilo will be waiting for you in the daytime. If he isn’t we’ll have to think of a different approach,” he said and Breha nodded.

“Very well, I shall go and prepare my utility belt!” she said while Bail shook his head and resigned himself to simply trusting in the force and the gods.

Breha was brilliant, and if anyone could contact what sounded like a secret underground rebellion in the heart of the new galactic empire, it would be her.

As he pulled up templates and began composing a program that would befuddle their apartment complex’s security system, Bail swallowed around his fear.

Breha was correct, after all, though he did try not to say it too often to preserve some modicum of control over his own household.

They had made promises, and if they had to die to keep them, then so be it.

* * *

Anakin frowned as the little training droid in front of him beeped, and then turned itself off, the function he had just programmed into it with the extra circuit boards that had come in the box clearly having failed to execute. 

Putting the repair tool down, Anakin sat back and stretched, letting his mind wander as the afternoon sun baked him slowly. He was sitting in the patchy shade outside the rear of the cruiser, away from the main group of younglings who were playing a ball game on the hardpacked main road of the settlement, and the masters who were either inside the cruiser or in the temple.

It had been a strange three days, since he had been thrown out of the sky by an ancient force being, Anakin thought, which is saying something about what was considered strange in his life.

Leaning back, he felt truly content for the first time in he didn’t even know how long.

After his meeting with Master Yoda, Vos and Obi-Wan, Anakin had been thrust into the routine of a jedi enclave once more, as he left Obi-Wan in their quarters and went outside to help Cin with the initiates as he had been instructed.

Though at first wary of him, everyone settled into comfortable acceptance as he followed Cin’s instructions without question and proved to be very valuable, given his excellent command of the force, many of the initiates watching him with wide, childlike wonder as he transported double the loads others may have done. 

Once it would have filled him with pride, and he might have come home and bragged to Padmé.

Now, when Obi-Wan asked him how it went as they sat down to dinner in their quarters that night, Anakin simply acknowledged that he was glad to be useful, Vos mercifully choosing to dine with the masters and younglings in the mess.

The day after that had been much the same, Anakin given full freedom to explore the temple, and asked rather than ordered to help with the many tasks of cleaning, clearing and building that was slowly bringing the temple into useable condition.

It was at the end of that day that Obi-Wan had taken him aside and brought him back to their quarters where Luke and Leia were, in the care of Master Yoda. They were dressed in their new comfortable clothes, lying in their new cot next to the bed, and up until that point, Anakin had avoided it like it was contagious. 

Yoda left the room with a hum and Anakin had wished he would come back. 

As he had stood nervously, Obi-Wan had lifted Leia out, the baby clearly happy to see him, and stood closer to Anakin. The fallen jedi had wanted to flinch away and leave, but Obi-Wan was looking at him with hope, and the bond was warm and calming, so Anakin reached out reluctantly, and held his daughter for the first time.

If he had to pick the happiest moment of his life, it would have been then, as Leia stared at him, a stranger, with the same eyes he saw in the mirror, but with the intelligence and fight he had seen in her mother. He had been moved beyond words as Obi-Wan came closer, and rearranged his arms, teaching him how to hold her against his chest. Obi-Wan had picked Luke up then, with practised ease, as well as a blanket and some toys, and nudged Anakin towards the bed.

They had then spent a glorious afternoon together, Anakin discovering what made his children squeal in delight, and what made Obi-Wan’s signature glow with joy and affection, lost in the happiness of those moments.

He would have continued all night if they hadn’t been interrupted by the dinner bell and had left to take their meal in the main hall.

Anakin had felt very off balance at how easily the masters made room for him at their table, once they had spotted the pair of them enter, where only days before this they had looked at him like he was poisonous. They still greeted him somewhat stiffly, but they hailed Obi-Wan with enthusiasm and a thousand questions as to his various tasks, and Anakin found he was content to simply watch. 

This was so much more than Anakin could have ever hoped for.

The next day went much the same, where he helped the droids in the engine room and in the hangar bay, working on the new ship and modifying it where he found faults with the engines, or designs that he didn’t like and knew he could improve. The evening had involved a meditation session with Yoda, wherein the grandmaster still did not pry into feelings that Anakin kept close to his chest, but instead instructed the fallen jedi through a series of mental exercises and thought processes that stirred his deepest emotions, without Yoda making him speak them aloud.

He found healing through it, and a balance in his spirit that he had seldom experienced before. A budding trust in the grandmaster also grew, as he finally felt respected, an adept force user, but also a colleague rather than a time bomb that the council felt would go off any minute.

Now, on the third day of his newfound acceptance if not full welcome back into the order, all of them enjoyed a day of rest, ordered by the grandmaster himself, to reward them all for their hard work in improving the temple.

He felt as though a sun had been born in his chest, a warm source of hope and love he carried with him everywhere, created by Obi-Wan and fuelled by the moments he had spent with Leia and Luke.

Though he was still wary of getting too close to his children, and left the majority of care to Obi-Wan and Vos, he did hold either one when Obi-Wan brought them to him, and even went so far as to feed Luke this morning, as Leia was very unsettled and refused the bottle from anyone or anything until Obi-Wan returned to calm her down.

So, now, while Obi-Wan left to go and speak with the grandmaster, Anakin had brought out the little training droid that he still couldn’t believe Obi-Wan had bought for him, fiddling with it as a means of keeping himself occupied.

He picked it and the repair tool up again, the sunlight dancing warmly over his legs as clouds skidded across the sky in a brisk breeze.

As footsteps approached him, he glanced back up and raised a hand in greeting to Cin, who was walking down from the temple,

“Master Skywalker!” the battle master called, a note of welcome in his voice,

“Master Drallig,” Anakin replied with a nod, as Cin walked up to him, the older jedi looking slightly harassed,

“We have discovered a weakness in the wall of the basement floor, and though Kom is shoring it up, we require more wood,” he said, sounding as put out as Anakin felt at their free afternoon being interrupted.

The younger man got to his feet as Cin pulled his long hair back,

“I am pleased to be of assistance,” Anakin said, with a smile, meaning what he said,

“Ah good, I wasn’t looking forward to dragging all those trees back up the incline,”

“I’ll put this away, and be with you shortly,” Anakin said, motioning to the droid in his hands, and Cin nodded and turned back, no doubt to round up some padawans for the laborious and time-consuming task ahead of them.

Still thinking, Anakin walked back towards the cruiser entrance.

Everything would be going very well in his rehabilitation at the moment, if not for the slight snag he had hit.

Though the open bond certainly brought a lot more stability than before, and Anakin was certain it was contributing to his more definitive grip on the light side of the force, the darkness all but banished, it was also now impossible to ignore the way he felt about Obi-Wan, try as he might to focus on their friendship as per his resolution, and there were consequences to that.

Making his way into the cool interior of the cruiser, heading for his quarters, Anakin knew that he could not be quiet for much longer.

Every minute Obi-Wan had spent with him had been bliss these last few days.

Every second Obi-Wan had spent with Quinlan Vos made Anakin so angry, so instantly, he wondered if perhaps he _should_ talk to Yoda about it in their next meditation session.

The Kiffar was maddening.

He was always around. He was charming and kind and amazingly good with the children, and Anakin knew that Obi-Wan’s relationship with him was one of trust and bonding that had lasted more than thirty years, right from their early days in the creche together.

He breathed out a long breath as he stored the droid and turned back for the exit.

He and Vos had a tentative unspoken truce, based mostly around keeping peace for Obi-Wan’s sake, though the master jedi was totally oblivious to the stares that either Anakin or Vos threw at each other whenever the other had Obi-Wan’s attention.

It was getting ridiculous.

As he walked out into the sunshine, Anakin also knew that it was getting to a tipping point. One way or another, this was going to come to a head.

As he spotted Master Cin and the younglings in the sparse forest at the base of the hill leading up to the temple, he knew he would take any opportunity that presented itself to settle this between himself and Vos.

He had been unable to approach Obi-Wan for a variety of reasons, chief among them his own unworthiness, but that bantha-fucker wasn’t worthy either, and damned if Anakin was going to let that lie.

* * *

Quinlan nodded in acknowledgement as Skywalker dropped off another tree trunk, levitating it to lay at the entrance of the temple before he turned and walked back down the hill without a word, a tautness in their interaction as it had been for the last three days, since Skywalker had returned from his little adventure.

The Kiffar watched him go back to where Cin and the padawans were working, glancing up at the sky, the sun setting slowly over them.

They had been working for a few hours now, ever since Kom’s discovery of the weakness in the walls, and then, as he tried to fix it, the passageway behind it, revealed with a small collapse. Once they had excavated the dirt and stone, they had decided they needed to do more to make sure a larger collapse wouldn’t happen, and so they had been busy all afternoon. 

Quinlan turned and levitated the freshly chopped tree trunk from where Skywalker had dropped it, concentrating on maintaining his grip on it, feeling a stab of envy at how easily Skywalker used the force, and the way it flowed around him and through him in a way it did for no one else.

The Kiffar moved slowly towards the stairs leading down into the basement, deeper in the temple than the main staircase, and his mind wandered.

Obi-Wan had returned to his perennial good mood most of the last three days, introducing Skywalker to his children and generally being very useful, as he helped with various tasks around the temple. He had spent most of today with Yoda to plan out a potential route they could take to Coruscant to meet up with Bail or Breha, having received a message from them today about how they had passed inspection, and were now back in their apartment in the senate district.

Meanwhile, the other masters were starting to accept Skywalker back into the fold, and Quinlan was chagrined to admit that the man had done everything in his power to demonstrate his reform, no doubt helped along by a master that so clearly loved him that it almost hurt Quinlan to keep looking at it. He himself would have come around quickly after his fall too if Obi-Wan had been there every step of the way, the light side of the force practically radiating off him.

He knew that many of the masters thought his dislike of Skywalker was very hypocritical, as in their eyes he and Skywalker were in the same boat.

What they didn’t seem to understand was that he had _never_ liked the kid, who had, over the years, used his hold of Obi-Wan to get privileges and attention very few other padawans experienced from their masters. On the rare occasions Quinlan had time off and was at the temple, Obi-Wan barely had more than an hour or two to spend with him before Skywalker was back from classes, and later, back from missions, and Obi-Wan’s attention was immediately split before being taken over completely.

The boy had been irritating.

The man he had grown into was infuriating.

At the very least, while he had been younger, Obi-Wan had always managed to keep some level of master-padawan interactions in their relationship, having some control over how much time and resources Anakin pulled out of him. Quinlan watched as that changed very quickly to a comradery that usually didn’t happen until well after knighthood, if master and padawan remained in contact, and then Obi-Wan seemed oblivious to the easy way Anakin drew him into every terrible plan and terrible mission, and even seemed to enjoy it.

Quinlan didn’t dislike Skywalker ‘cause he fell.

He hated the man because he was jealous, and in many ways, knew he had already lost.

He had never been good at being the bigger person. There was just so much loss in his past, first on Kiffu, then in the clone wars, and then the attack on Coruscant. A large part of him worried that he would lose Obi-Wan too – that Skywalker would drag him down with him.

Quinlan knew his behaviour was wrong – possessiveness was never healthy – but he couldn’t seem to stop it either.

As he finally emerged from the staircase and out onto the basement landing, he felt his hold on the log slipping. Letting it fall with a thud, he kicked it to roll further down the corridor, tired from long hours of using the force when he himself was a melee and stealth combat specialist.

Kom, who was standing at the entrance of the passageway some way down the corridor, a shadowy figure in the dim light, glared at him, 

“Do take care, Master Vos,” he reproached him, his muzzle wrinkling with his displeasure,

“Ah, sorry,” Quinlan said, examining the Bothan’s work.

The basement’s ceiling was a lot lower than the other parts of the temple, and in the light of the torches, Quinlan could see the new passageway that Kom had accidentally discovered, this one made of rock and mud rather than the solid stone around it, angled steeply into the mountain itself,

“We need a few more logs,” Kom said, glancing over his shoulder as he lifted the fresh trunk into its place, bracing the ceiling of the new passageway by binding tightly to the recently applied quick-dry cement, finishing the second last brace that the Bothan had made around the entrance,

“The padawans are making excellent time,” Quinlan replied, “I’ll go and see if there is another,” and with that he spun and walked back to the staircase, the air growing fresher with every step upwards.

He emerged into the entrance hall and walked out the door, pausing as movement caught his eye at the bottom of the hill, and spotted Obi-Wan at the back end of the cruiser, away from where everyone was working.

His beige robes caught the last of the sun’s rays and he looked relaxed and deep in conversation with Master Yoda. From this far away, Quinlan could not make out which of the babies he had in his arms as he walked along with the grandmaster, but Quinlan still felt a spark of warmth as he recalled the picture he had taken several days ago, and every interaction with the children since. Only a cold-hearted monster would not be moved to affection when looking at Obi-Wan and a pair of babies.

“You’re staring, Vos.”

Quinlan blinked, coming back to the present to see Skywalker had returned up the hill while he was distracted, and was glaring at him, his genial or quietly respectful expression of the last few days gone, though it had never been directed at Quinlan anyway.

Another tree trunk, at least half a metre thick and three metres long, was lying at his feet.

“I don’t see how that’s your business,” Quinlan replied, hefting this one up and onto his shoulder with a deep breath, aiding himself with the force, as he turned away from Skywalker,

“It’s my business, because I don’t like the way you look at him,”

Quinlan knew the kid was trying to get a reaction out of him, but he didn’t like the implication. He bit down on the irritation and the frustration at the truth in Skywalker’s words and continued towards the temple.

“I know you want him.”

Quinlan stopped, the log a heavy weight as his hands tightened on the smooth bark of the tree trunk. With a sharp breath out, he lifted the log off his shoulder, and put it down, leaning it against the frame of the front door.

He turned around sharply, his gaze locking onto the young human, who was looking at him defiantly,

“You know what, Skywalker, why don’t you and I have a little talk?” he growled, though there was no room for negotiation as he walked towards the younger man,

“I think it’s about time, yes,” Skywalker replied, his voice dangerous as he maintained eye contact with Quinlan, also walking forward so that he and Quinlan met at the border of the forest and the temple, standing half in the cold shade of evening and half in the late warmth of sunset.

From this close, Quinlan could see the anger in Skywalker’s eyes, and smell the adrenaline that had kicked through his body.

Humans were painfully predictable sometimes.

They stood there, facing off from each other, before Quinlan moved first.

He struck out with speed, his fist connecting with Skywalker’s unprotected side. The human huffed out a breath of pain, and then the fight began in earnest.

Quinlan was thrown back with a wave of force energy, slamming into the wall of the temple, and rolling to his feet as Skywalker aimed a kick at where his head had been.

He launched himself forward in reply, tackling Skywalker around the waist and using his greater weight to bring him to the ground. He felt a vicious satisfaction as the young man winced in pain, grunting as he attempted to break free from the forearm Quinlan had pressed down on his throat,

“If I want, Skywalker,” he said, his voice low, glaring at the blue irises that stared back with equal venom, “it’s because I value what I see,”

Skywalker bucked under him, and then he was thrown off, as the fallen jedi’s superior grasp on the force gave him the advantage.

Spinning with it, Quinlan landed on his feet, and managed to avoid the stick projected at his head, but not the punch that followed from the opposite direction and for a moment saw stars as he staggered and was shoved against a tree, the sunlight blinding him,

“You think I don’t value him?” Skywalker panted through clenched teeth, the pressure on Quinlan’s chest painful, the bones aching,

“I think you believe you own, him, Skywalker. That doesn’t speak of valuing a person, just their attention,” Quinlan replied, squinting through the sun at the fury on Skywalker’s face, wondering for a brief moment if the younger man would actually go so far as to kill him,

“This isn’t about me. It’s about Obi-Wan. He’s been through enough, and doesn’t need the likes of you around him,” with the last word, Skywalker sent him flying back towards wall of the temple.

With only a second to react, Quinlan called the force around him and bounced off the unyielding stone harmlessly, rolling to his feet with the practice of decades. He circled Skywalker, his world narrowing to this moment here, on the disturbed ground of the temple’s gardens,

“You think you’re the right choice for him then?” Quinlan asked and watched as a multitude of emotions ran across the human’s face, his steps however no less graceful, his entire posture no less predatory.

Skywalker attacked again, hurling branches like blaster shots through the air and Quinlan ducked and dived as he retreated further into the forest and away from the temple, determined not to use his lightsabre when Skywalker didn’t have access to his own.

Taking cover behind a tree, Quinlan brought a branch down onto the younger man, his strength flagging as force manipulation had never been his forte, Skywalker easily breaking the branch before it hit him.

Using the forest to his advantage, Quinlan swung himself up the closest tree, watching as his opponent walked slowly to where he had last been seen, cautiously looking around.

Quinlan waited with bated breath until the young man was in range and then he jumped down, landing on top of Skywalker, drawing out a grunt of pain from him, and once again pinning him to the ground,

“Do you think you’re the right choice for him?” Quinlan asked again, his hand pressing Skywalker’s face into the dirt, no doubt hurting him, but beyond the point of being able to control the frustration that had been roiling in his veins these last days, living in close quarters, hovering around each other, 

“No!” Skywalker spat out, and Quinlan was so surprised he eased back, Skywalker immediately rolling away from under him and into a crouch, angry red imprints left on his right cheek from where he had been pressed into the ground,

“Do you think you are?” he shot back, his chest heaving and a shallow cut on the back of his hand bleeding.

Quinlan met his gaze, his muscles burning pleasantly from the strenuous activity.

The moment stretched, and Quinlan took a breath. 

“No,” he answered quietly, Skywalker blinking in surprise.

Before either of them could say anything more, the ground rumbled beneath them, Quinlan startling and standing up straight, distracted,

“What was that?” Skywalker asked, and Quinlan gasped out loud as understanding dawned on him.

“Master Kom!” he cried, taking off for the entrance to the temple, ignoring his newly injured body as Skywalker thankfully understood the urgency and followed on his heels. Together they ran into the temple, past the main staircase and classroom on the right, turning left and hurrying down the stairs to the basement.

Quinlan arrived first, coughing as he inhaled the dust that filled the basement, and spotted Kom, conscious but trapped under a new cave in, the ceiling that he had been standing under what felt like only minutes ago having given way,

“Master Kom?” Skywalker asked from next to him, assessing the situation but staying away from the Bothan, and Quinlan could understand the tactical value of that, even as Kom moaned in pain,

“Help,” the Bothan called weakly, trying in vain to pull himself out of the rubble, little pieces of stone and mud falling off the roof above them with a gentle patter,

“Looking at the way everything has fallen, we have to move it all together, or we risk trapping him and ourselves in another collapse,” Skywalker said, walking closer, still surveying the mound of debris.

Quinlan grimaced.

He had just expended so much force energy on a stupid fight that he never should have started, and now…

“You’re going to have to do it,” he said, gritting his teeth and Skywalker looked over to him, before looking back at the trapped Master,

“You’ll need to get him out when I lift it up,” he instructed then, and Quinlan nodded, walking over to Kom and moving him so that he had his arms braced around the Bothean’s chest, a cry of pain leaving him,

“Sorry,” Quinlan said, “hang in there,”

He turned to Skywalker and nodded at him to indicate he was ready.

The young man, who was still bleeding sluggishly from the cut on his hand, his clothes muddied and disordered, stood perfectly still for a moment. Then Skywalker raised his arms in front of him, and Quinlan looked back to Kom’s face in time to catch the note of awe on it, and had to admit it was valid, as Skywalker raised the tonnes of stone and mud off the ground, smoothly and without a hint of extra effort, his posture relaxed. 

As soon as the debris was high enough, Quinlan slid Kom out from under the wreckage, a groan of pain drawn out from the Bothean master, a trail of blood underneath him,

“Got him,” Quinlan called, and Anakin carefully placed everything back down, nothing out of place from where it had been,

“Thank you,” Kom croaked, and Quinlan reached out with the little force healing he knew, attempting to dull the pain around the Bothean’s bloody and mangled lower torso and legs.

“Skywalker,” Kom called, and Quinlan saw the younger man stop, having been about to leave. Instead, he walked over and dropped down next to them instead, concern on his face, “Thank you,” Kom said, reaching out slowly to grasp Anakin’s forearm and Quinlan saw conflict flicker though the younger man’s eyes,

“No problem,” he replied, somewhat unsure, patting Kom’s arm as the Bothean closed his eyes and let his limb drop to the ground, his breathing erratic and the smell of blood starting to worry Quinlan in its intensity,

“Help me get him out of here,” Quinlan said, wondering if the fallen jedi would respond to him.

Once again, he surprised the Kiffar, by reaching out and raising Kom off the floor with the force.

Quietly, Quinlan followed the human out, and met Cin as they climbed out of the stairwell, the battlemaster no doubt coming to investigate Skywalker’s prolonged absence.

It was a quick process then to get Kom down to the cruiser, Quinlan declaring this entire task a lost cause for today and herding the padawans inside the ship, though many of them were determined to keep working.

As he waited for the last to pick up his tools and return to the cruiser, he glanced over to Skywalker, who was speaking to Master Yoda in the twilight, a hundred metres or so from the ship.

The man had fought honourably, the taint of the dark side never having entered their battle earlier, despite the obvious anger he had felt coming off the human. Quinlan rubbed his aching jaw as the young padawan apologised to him and hurried inside, and he turned to follow.

He still didn’t like Skywalker.

But maybe he could come to respect him.

* * *

Bail had left for the senate only ten minutes ago, and Breha sat anxiously on the recliner in the living room, the skyline behind her dark and cloudy with threatened rain.

She was dressed not in her usual skirts and finery, but instead in a simple pair of trousers, a shirt and a long ankle-length black jacket, which successfully hid her utility belt and the pair of blasters that she preferred.

The watch on her wrist chimed, signalling that twelve minutes had passed – the time taken for the CCTV camera feeds to cycle – and Breha sprang to her feet, pulling her jacket closed, and drawing the hood up, just in case any of their neighbours were out and about, or Bail’s little trick didn’t work.

Her husband had spent that morning setting up a fake camera feed for the stairwell of their apartment to slot into the regular feed cycles – if anyone were to check, they would not see a hooded figure leave the apartment, the door locking automatically behind them, as they turned and hurried down the stairs, moving with purpose.

Breha’s heart was thudding in her chest from the danger of what lay ahead, but she was equally determined to do her part and bring the Emperor’s reign to an end.

As her footsteps echoed through the empty stairwell, she was glad that they had decided to move today, as it was very unlikely that she would run into any of the tenants of the building, as most would be glued to their holo screens. The first meeting of the new galactic senate today meant many wanted to see which senators remained, and what changes their new emperor would make.

As she stepped around yet another curve, Breha was vaguely nauseated at the generally positive attitude most people on Coruscant held towards Palpatine. Though those in the senate district knew better than to think any politician was without fault, most were relatively in favour of his rule, due to the end of the war and the magical reunification of the republic and the separatists after so many failed attempted in the past.

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell at last, Breha only hoped that what Yoda had said in his reply to their first message would come to pass – they would find some evidence to peacefully bring Palpatine to trial.

Putting politics out of her mind for the minute, Breha paused at the atrium between the stairwell and the basement, the lights outside bright and well maintained, shining off the various speeders and shuttles parked within.

Breha pressed the little remote on her belt, also added by Bail this morning. It caused a momentary short circuit, killing power to the basement, and plunging it into darkness, as this camera feed was controlled by a central body, and they could not tamper with it.

They could, however, render the video it captured totally useless.

Heading to the right, using a hand on the cement wall as a guide, Breha walked carefully until she felt a symmetrical round indentation in the wall, not visible in standard lighting, and so small that you would miss it if you didn’t know it was there. Tapping it twice, the fake cement wall retracted with a quiet rumble and revealed a bio scanner plate, glowing faintly green in the darkness. Placing her hand onto it, it buzzed, and then the entire section of the wall where she was standing moved backwards and up, emergency lighting showing her the way in.

A hum reached her from behind and she hurried into the passageway, the wall re-sealing itself as she crossed the threshold, just as light flooded the basement again, Breha safely concealed on the other side.

Taking a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to the much dimmer lighting of the passageway, she took in the bare metal walls around her, and then turned and started walking. 

It was odd moving through such a busy city but hearing absolutely nothing but her own breathing, footsteps and the buzz of electric lights around her, but Breha was nothing if not tenacious, and she ignored the feeling of isolation, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The passageway moved downwards in a spiral, Breha walking quickly as she could without running, not wanting to be away from the apartment for too long, just in case any visitors came to call.

Finally, the passageway levelled out and she spotted a wall at the end of the tunnel – the exit.

Reaching it, she allowed the scanner to read her palm and then her eye, relieved as the door opened, and a wave of sound crashed into her, the ambient noise of a very busy city in the middle of business day.

She stepped out from the passageway into a light drizzle, which was falling onto lower Coruscant City, almost an hour’s flight from her senate apartment due to congestion rather than distance, and as busy as ever, given that the majority of people lived or worked in this district.

It was full of life and no-one glanced twice at her, as the passageway sealed itself neatly behind her, looking like a simple service entrance.

Breha pulled out her datapad and opened the map to oriented herself.

Putting it away, she stepped out and merged into the heavy foot traffic. She followed the flow of people down that street, and took the next turn off to the right, heading away from the market area and towards the recreation quarter, where most of the cantinas and bars were, and where the Maid’s Keep was supposed to be.

Weaving through people and ducking under a large shipment an Ithorian was carrying on their shoulder, Breha spotted the sign she was looking for. Making her way forward, keeping her pace at normal walking speed and her anxiety well hidden, Breha wandered to the entrance, where a large human stood,

“What do you want?” he asked, glaring at her. Breha flinched as someone shoved into her from behind, clearly annoyed that she had stopped,

“I’m here to meet a friend,” she replied, her voice confident. The human looked her up and down,

“No friend of yours would be here, lady,” he said, and Breha sighed,

“I’m actually looking for a friend named Pilo,” Breha replied, having expected to be rebuffed, and hoping that using the name she was given on the letter would help.

The human nodded,

“Ah, of course,” he said, and stepped out of the way.

Moving past him, Breha entered the bar.

The noise of the street dimmed behind her, to be replaced with the tinny sound of rubbish speakers playing some old song, voices all mixing together in conversation, and the smell of alcohol and sentients. It was exactly what she had expected as she looked around – lots of tables, the floor sticky from a variety of drinks and gods knew what else, and an assorted number of races sitting around, none interested in what the others were doing.

Making her way through the main floor, Breha went up to the bar,

“What will you have, love?” asked the weequay behind the counter, throwing a bottle to one of the customers as he turned to face her,

“Alderaan wine, thank you,” Breha replied and he raised his left eyebrow,

“Not many people come in asking for that,” he said, appraising what little he could see of her face, hooded as it was,

“I am not like many people,” Breha replied, climbing up onto the barstool,

“So what are you doing in my little cantina then, sweet one?” the bartender asked, leaning forward. Breha stood her ground, the smell of alcohol and spice strong on the man,

“I wish to meet someone called Pilo. I heard there might be one or two yellow veractyl around here too,” she said, and he immediately retreated,

“Ah, righto,” he replied, turning around and pouring a glass of wine, handing it to her, “follow me, lovely,” and Breha got off the stool.

The bartender took her across the main floor, and then up a set of stairs, the lighting getting seedier and the walls somehow dirtier.

Breha prepared for anything as they climbed onto a landing, and then the bartender held open a curtain, “In there,” he said, tilting his head.

Downing the wine in a single gulp, Breha handed the glass back to the surprised man, her throat burning as she pulled out a blaster,

“Hey now-” he started, but Breha pointed the blaster at his face and he immediately stepped back.

She tilted her head back to the stairs and he retreated with a muttered, “not my fight,”

Breha waited until he was gone before she took a deep breath.

Ready, she raised the blaster and stepped through the curtain, into a little reception area, which, as she walked past it, opened up into a large room, dusty and dim.

Before she could take another step, however, something grabbed her from behind, strong hands on her shoulders. Startled, Breha screamed and the grip on her tightened, pulling her against a body that felt humanoid and armoured, another set of footsteps from behind moving in and throwing something over her head, cutting off her vision.

Breha fought to break her attacker’s hold, firing a shot off with the blaster, but the person behind her pulled her into a choke hold, and the second person grabbed her wrist and squeezed, causing her to drop the blaster. Breha screamed again as they forced her arms behind her back, and kicked out backwards, connecting with some body part and producing a groan of pain, the voice sounding male.

Unfortunately, that only convinced them to tighten their grip on her throat and her arms, forcing her down to her knees,

“What do you want?” Breha asked, angry and feeling helpless,

There was no reply as rope was threaded around her wrists, and then she was forced onto her front, the smell of old, musty carpet coming through the cloth and making her gag.

As the continued to secure her, Breha tried once more to break the hold they had on her, grunting with the effort, a sound which quickly turned into a pained gasp as they pulled her legs back to tie to her hands, her back arched uncomfortably,

“Are you the yellow veractyl?” Breha gasped in pain and fright, trying without success to turn over, to wriggle out of the bindings.

There were no responses as she was hauled up, held against what felt like armour plates on someone’s shoulder.

Accepting that it would be better to conserve her strength for now, Breha stopped fighting as she was moved.

She only hoped wherever they were taking her to had a better welcoming party than this.

* * *

**Woo updated on time (only just haha)**

**Has Breha been taken by friend or foe? Will Anakin and Obi-Wan realise that they are both idiots? Can the babies get any cuter? At any rate, the force presence was kind enough to let our lads get some fluffy cute time together. I am sad to say that this is not going to last - after all, there's a sith to be defeated!**

**At any rate, I will try to update in a week, but hospital is crazy busy so it’ll depend. Thanks for reading, kudos and comments!!**

**< 3 <3 **


	7. When Stars Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultimatums. Truth. Conversations.

**Chapter 7 – When Stars Collide**

**_I felt the spark when we danced in the dark,_ **

**_We could stoke a fire inside,_ **

**_For to be wise and love exceeds man’s might_ **

**_When stars, when stars collide_ **

**_-_ ** **When Stars Collide, Headland.**

“Anakin, are you alright?” Obi-Wan called, as he rounded the corner to the medbay, having dropped his star charts and plans and all but sprinted there once the droid had come to inform him that one of the masters had been hurt, and was in for medical treatment.

As he rounded the corner he had nearly collapsed with relief when he saw Anakin standing in the doorway, muddied and with some dried blood on the back of his hand but otherwise unhurt.

At his voice, the young man had turned to look at him with a smile, “I’m fine,” he said, reaching out to the bond and calming Obi-Wan’s stuttering heart, the older man momentarily disoriented at the welcome warmth, as he came to a stop beside Anakin and looked into the room.

It was organised chaos within, as Quinlan and Cin followed the specific instructions given by the med droid with speed, force pulling tools and supplies to them as needed. There were regenerators and sterilisers lying on the spare beds, drops and smears of blood on the floor, and sutures and bandages flying as Kom lay at the centre of it all, the Bothan moaning in pain, the bacta that Obi-Wan could smell clearly doing nothing for him.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked, deciding that going into the room was not going to help matters, and that Anakin had the right idea by standing in the doorway,

“The roof caved in on him,” Anakin replied with a note of regret, meeting his gaze, but Obi-Wan was immediately distracted as he noticed the dark blue and red marks on Anakin’s cheek, brow, lower jaw and neck, oddly enough in places that wouldn’t normally be injured by falling debris,

“What’s this?” he asked, reaching out to hold Anakin’s chin and turn his head towards him, the younger man grimacing and attempting to resist without success,

“Nothing,” he replied, looking directly over Obi-Wan’s shoulder rather than at him,

“You weren’t in the cave-in were you?” Obi-Wan prompted further, waiting for a response, and moving slightly to block Anakin’s view of the room, thereby forcing him to meet his gaze.

Anakin’s expression didn’t change, and he shrugged, “not exactly in it, no, just near enough to get the tail end,” he said, a slightly tremor over the bond telling Obi-Wan that he was lying, and the master frowned at him, but held his tongue for the moment.

Turning his gaze back to the bed, he watched as the team sedated and intubated Kom, pulling his ripped and dirtied clothes off him, before Quinlan and Cin hoisted him up onto the stretcher for transfer to the bacta tank,

“Will he be okay?” Obi-Wan called out, and Quinlan looked up as they passed the door, his expression lightening as he glanced at him,

“Yes, it’s all soft tissue injury now, so that’s an improvement. We managed to repair the fractures to his femur and fibula, but he’s got a lot of healing to do if the nerves are to be saved,” the Kiffar explained, Obi-Wan noting that there was a shallow scratch on his upper arm, and bruises on his knuckles and under his ear, spreading down his jawline.

As he walked away to the other end of room, talking to Cin and the droid, Obi-Wan glanced down to Anakin’s hands.

The left bore a scratch that looked jagged around the edges, as though it had been caught on a rough surface, and the right wrist, from what Obi-Wan could see, had bruising that seemed to follow from the inside of the thumb and to the back of the hand.

Suspicious now, Obi-Wan looked back to Quinlan, his eyes narrowed, and watched as the Kiffar winced with movement of his shoulder as he hefted the Bothan up and over the edge of the tank, his other arm coming to massage the joint, as though it had been recently injured.

If they had been caught in the cave in, both would have they been covered in the same mud as on Kom’s clothing, rather than light dust they were both wearing, and Obi-Wan was sure that injuries would be sustained to the backs of their heads, not the front, as they instinctively tried to protect themselves.

With a stab of irritation, Obi-Wan came to conclusion they must have been fighting, and given Anakin’s reticence and that the two of them had matching injuries, it was probably with each other.

Obi-Wan turned so that he was looking at Anakin fully, “Anakin,” he said, his voice hard and the younger man stiffened, though he didn’t turn his gaze away from the bacta tanks,

“Yes, master?” he asked, innocently,

“Follow me, I think they have this under control.”

Without waiting for an answer, Obi-Wan turned around, walking away from the medbay and towards the cruiser’s exit. 

He was gratified when after a second’s delay, footsteps followed behind him, Anakin silent as he led them through the mess and the gathered padawans within, enjoying their evening meal. He turned left and walked past the bedroom wing and then out through the exit, the twilight bringing a cool wind with it, the noise of the jedi’s voices replaced with the calls of wildlife as the day cycled into night.

Obi-Wan turned to the right, heading away from the temple. He intended to follow the path Quinlan had taken him down all those days ago when he had been convalescing, wanting to get to a quiet place rather than staying within earshot of gossiping children and pre-teens.

Still, Anakin said nothing, but Obi-Wan felt a hint of guilt in his force signature. 

Finally, as he stepped off the hardpacked earth and onto the narrower path, Anakin sighed,

“Where are we going?” he asked, almost petulantly, “if you want to yell at me, anywhere is good, you know, we don’t have to go for a hike,” 

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, but sent disapproval over the bond and Anakin said no more, until they emerged from the path and into the clearing,

“Sit,” he said, pointing at the logs which were spread out, this spot becoming very popular with the masters after Quinlan showed it to them, as a retreat from the rest of the enclave, a peace here that was reminiscent of the room of a thousand fountains.

Anakin did as he was bid, a note of defiance in his eyes as he looked up at Obi-Wan.

“Why were you fighting with Quinlan?” Obi-Wan asked, getting straight to the point and maintaining eye contact as he too, sat down, the expanse of sky and forest behind Anakin deepening the shadows on the younger man’s face.

Anakin was quiet for a moment, before he shifted in his seat, “It wasn’t planned,” he started, looking over his shoulder and then back to Obi-Wan again, “but it was necessary,” and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, 

“I don’t ever remember teaching you that physical violence was a necessity,” Obi-Wan replied, his tone icy, and Anakin seemed to realise that he wasn’t going to get out of this one easily,

“No, it – it’s not just a fight, Obi-Wan,” he said, looking away then, “He – we needed it,” he added, wincing even as he finished the sentence and now Obi-Wan was more confused than he was irritated, 

“We?” he asked, “and whatever do you mean by you needed it? Why would you need to pummel each other like a pair of common pirates?”

“I mean that there are some things that are between two people, Obi-Wan, and that I would appreciate if we could keep it that way,” Anakin replied, an odd formality in his tone that Obi-Wan didn’t like.

All of this was reminiscent of the days before his fall, and Obi-Wan could not stop the fear and anger that bubbled over the bond,

“I thought we were past this,” he said, his tone bitter, and Anakin seemed to deflate, looking at his hands, “I thought the days of lying and avoidance were over,”

“No, Master, I’m not lying for myself, it’s to protect - ” Anakin cut himself off then, growling in frustration as he got to his feet, and waving his arms about as he struggled to articulate himself, “It’s not like before! I – yes I fought with Vos, but it’s not a simple thing, and to tell you - ” Anakin huffed again, looking over to Obi-Wan as though it was his fault, before he looked back out at the sky,

“There’s no loopholes to trust and honesty, Anakin, no reason that can justify the lies,” Obi-Wan said, pushing his hair back off his face agitatedly, “there’s truth, and then there’s obfuscation, and –“

“How are you so observant, and yet so blind?” Anakin cut him off, turning so that he was facing Obi-Wan, the older jedi unsure of what the question even meant,

“What-”

“No really, master, I mean it,” Anakin said, frowning as he glared at him, annoyance filtering across their bond, “In thirty seconds, you figured out I had been in a fight, but somehow you miss what’s right in front of you, so how can I explain why it needed to happen, or why we did what we did?”

“Anakin, you’re talking in riddles,” Obi-Wan said, also getting to his feet, moving closer to the fallen jedi, keeping his body language open even as Anakin folded his arms over his chest.

The younger man shook his head, his jaw tight, as he glanced down to his boots, rocking back on his heels slightly, his internal debate sending anxiety trickling over the bond. 

Finally, he looked up.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to lose you,” Anakin admitted, so softly that Obi-Wan almost missed it in the cacophony of wildlife calls around them.

The older jedi blinked as his brain failed to process the words and to find the connection between the fight with Quinlan and Anakin being afraid of losing him,

“What?” he asked, feeling like a broken record,

Anakin’s anger and defiance faded then, and his eyes looked so sad as he gazed back at Obi-Wan, that the master wondered what had happened to the happy version of this man he had seen only this afternoon,

“Anakin,” he said, worried now, as he moved forward, and then suddenly he had an armful of robes and warmth as the younger man also took a step to meet him, and pulled him into a hug, dropping his head over Obi-Wan’ shoulder.

Befuddled at this strange turn, Obi-Wan returned it, reaching a hand up to run through Anakin’s hair without really thinking about it, and then continuing to play with the soft strands when he felt Anakin shiver against him, his skin tingling as Anakin blew out a breath against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck where the robes were looser.

“Anakin,” he said, again, softly, turning his head so that he was speaking against Anakin’s ear, and the arms tightened around him, as though the fallen jedi was scared to let go, “Anakin, what is going on with you? What are you thinking? Why did you get into a tussle with a master when everyone is trying so hard to help you?” he asked gently, feeling another tremor run through the young man as the bond both celebrated and hurt, his heart beat falling into time with it.

Pulling back slightly, Anakin kept his arms draped over Obi-Wan’s shoulders, so that he was only centimetres from Obi-Wan’s face.

The older man felt like a rabbit in headlights at the intensity of his gaze, the evening light only serving to bring out the colour in the irises and the warm golden glow of his skin,

“I…” Anakin started, his breath ghosting across Obi-Wan’s lips, heat pooling in Obi-Wan’s gut as his hand resting on Anakin’s hip tightened quite without his input, Anakin’s muscles firm under the tunic and jumping at his touch,

“You?” Obi-Wan prompted shakily, his own voice unsteady, the situation gone wildly south of the disciplinary meeting he had planned out, and the bond almost blinding him with the energy that was flowing between them.

Anakin seemed to drift closer and Obi-Wan’s heart felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest.

Anakin drew in a breath, as though to say something.

Obi-Wan felt the displacement of air between them, hunger pulsing across the bond, shimmering with intent when -

The moment was broken quite suddenly as the force tilted and the planet’s signature vibrated.

_Children of the force._

The voice rang out in his head and Anakin moved away from him, Obi-Wan discombobulated as his focus shifted, and he came back to the clearing they were standing in.

Realising just how close he had come to closing the distance between himself and Anakin, he felt his cheeks heat as his heart thundered in his chest, the little bubble they had fallen into completely shattered,

“That’s the same voice that took me last time,” Anakin said, all the breathlessness in his voice gone to be replaced with the competence Obi-Wan knew well, helping to centre him, 

“The force being?” he asked, trying to think critically even as his body and the bond longed for the closeness of only a few seconds ago,

“Yeah,” Anakin said, coming back and placing a solid hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?” he asked, and Obi-Wan nodded, regaining his balance even though he wasn’t sure that he would ever be okay, not if Anakin kept looking at him like that, and wondered, perhaps, if he should quit while he was ahead,

“You’re not out of trouble just yet,” he said distractedly, glancing around, and prodding the force around them, to see if he could trace the other being in the life force of the planet,

“Oh, I think I might be,” Anakin replied casually, doing the same as Obi-Wan, the bond a source of power for them both, their own control of the force heightened by the energy passing between them.

_Children. You must come to me._

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan asked, struggling to pin down the shifting swells of the energy around them, as the night darkened, and the calls of the wildlife grew louder. 

_I am everything._

_I am not who._

_I am._

Obi-Wan frowned, the answer as cryptic and confusing as some of the advice that Master Yoda gave them on his less helpful days,

“Why do you want us?” he queried, glancing to Anakin who shrugged, their discussions over the last few days exploring that question, but neither of them able to come up with anything more than theories and the link to Anakin being the prophesied chosen one,

_The future is in flux, children. The future is touched by you._

_Come to me…you have less than one rotation to decide._

_Or I will hurt more than the one jedi that heals in your dwelling now._

And with that, the presence was gone, the energy of the planet returning to its peaceful baseline, and Obi-Wan looked to Anakin in alarm,

“It brought the ceiling down on Master Kom?” Anakin asked, sounding perturbed as he stepped closer to Obi-Wan, as though to protect him,

“It must have done,” Obi-Wan said, thinking, “as I remember, Quin and Master Yoda checked the entire building for stability when we landed here – they didn’t find any extra passageways or faults in the building, it was perfectly solid, and Master Yoda was surprised when Kom first notified us of the cracks,”

“So what, we give in to this threat?” Anakin asked, never one to back down and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“I’m just a simple jedi, Anakin, I don’t know,” he paused, making sure that Anakin was looking at him before he added, “you and I are not done talking about this, though” motioning between them and the forest clearing, and felt some satisfaction as Anakin looked chastened,

“There’s a _lot_ we need to talk about,” he added meaningfully, heat shooting down his spine as he remembered just how close Anakin’s lips had been to his, and if the responding desire on the other side of the bond was anything to go by, Anakin knew precisely what he was thinking, 

“But first we talk to Master Yoda about this force nonsense?” Anakin asked hopefully, wide eyed and cheerful, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, unable to hide his own smile, never able to resist feeling fondness at Anakin’s impudence, try though he might.

Clapping him on the shoulder twice, Obi-Wan led the way out of the clearing, wishing that just once, they had more than five minutes to themselves before the galaxy or the war or the jedi council interrupted them.

As they walked back through the forest though, Anakin purposely distracting him with talk of the native flora and fauna that he had observed, a tactic which Obi-Wan was able to admit worked, he resolved himself to his earlier words.

They were past the dancing around truths and working with half lies.

They were going to talk.

* * *

Breha’s back, thighs and upper arms were on fire by the time the vehicle she had been roughly thrown into came to a stop, her sense of time greatly distorted by the covering over her head. The people who had grabbed her had stayed silent during the journey, and Breha groaned out loud as they picked her up, her abused muscles protesting the rough grab and lift. 

She was thrown over a shoulder again, the smell of dampness growing stronger through the cloth, accompanied by the smell of something rotting. Voices reached her, echoing as though in a large chamber, getting louder as they walked towards them. The people carrying her called out, and cleaner air diffused through her head covering, no doubt from the filtration fans that she heard buzzing as they walked past.

“Why are you back so soon?” a voice asked, sounding less than pleased,

“Got ourselves a little captive,” replied a female voice behind Breha, sounding very pleased with themselves,

“Imperial spy?” the new voice asked, authoritative and somehow familiar to Breha, coming closer,

“Claimed she knew us,” a male voice replied right next to Breha’s head, “little thing came into the bar, and said she was looking for someone called Pilo,”

“Kriff! Put her down!” the voice commanded, and Breha was dropped onto the floor, a pained moan drawn from her lips as pain arched down her back like lightning,

“Untie her! Untie her now!” the voice commanded, and hands fumbled around her wrist bindings, the covering coming off her head.

Coughing and wincing, Breha was rolled onto her back, her muscles non-responsive and screaming in agony from the position they had been held in, as she managed to get one hand onto the other, rubbing her wrist to bring feeling back into her hands,

“What in the sith hells is wrong with the two of you?” the voice yelled and Breha squinted up through the bright light, taking in the back of a tall man clad in white armour plates, the two humans who had probably been the ones to pick her up cowering in front of him,

“We thought - ” the man started, but the commander stepped forward, so close that the other man took another step backwards,

“No, you didn’t think!” he growled,

Breha pulled herself into a sitting position as pins and needles ran down her arms and legs, breathing through the pain as she took in the yellow stripes on the commander’s white armour, and the close-cropped black hair,

“You two are kriffing liabilities, I don’t think you have a brain cell between the two of you. Get to your quarters, you are confined until further notice,”

With that, the commander turned away from them, Breha feeling some satisfaction as the two scurried away like children that had been chastised, the two or three people who had gathered around, a variety of ages and species, drifted away, clearly happy to leave this to their commander,

“Ma’am,” the leader said in a much softer voice, his expression softening as he reached down to her with a hand extended.

Gratefully, Breha took it, wincing as all her joints protested, “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said, looking like he meant it, “those two cowboys don’t read a damn thing I send out, you were never meant to be harmed in anyway, Pilo was meant to be the codeword only you would have used,”

“Well I do prefer to be taken out to dinner before being tied up,’ Breha said, recognition dawning on her as she continued to examine his face, the man obviously a clone, but the armour and his demeanour different somehow, “but I think I can forgive you. Have we met?” she asked.

Snapping off a salute to her, he nodded, “Clone Commander CC-2224, of the 212th attack battalion, formerly that which served under General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Grand Army of the Republic, Ma’am,” he said, the words short and formal and Breha smiled at him,

“Commander Cody,” she said, the name coming to her as she finally recalled where she had seen him before, and received a bright grin in return,

“Didn’t think you’d remember me, Ma’am,” he said, gesturing with his arm to the right, and Breha walked forward, moving stiffly as her muscles recovered, taking in the base that she had been brought to.

There were standing in what looked to be an underground tunnel of some sort, brightly lit with floodlights from the ceiling. Glancing behind her, she saw a row of speeders and small ships parked in neat rows, one of them probably being what she was carried in on. Behind those there was only darkness, suggesting that these were not often used tunnels, and their power must be coming from somewhere else. Looking back in front of her, the tunnel widened to form what would have been a dead end, she imagined, under normal circumstances. As it were, there were three makeshift, two-story buildings that stood in a semi-circle facing them, much like the pop-up ones that were used as command centres on battlefields, the biggest standing in the middle and reaching all the way up to the ceiling.

“I’d hardly forget you, commander, the last time I saw you I’m pretty sure we were being bombed,”

“That is true,” Cody replied with a chuckle, “but I really do want to say sorry, my people were meant to escort you, but I don’t think dumb and dumber read the brief I sent out last week at all, they must have thought you were an imperial who was trying their luck to win the favour of the new empire,”

Breha shook her head in dismissal as they walked through the door, “does that happen often?” she asked, surprised to find the inside of the building ordered and neat, the walls on either side stacked with weapons and armour, and the floor opening up to a very large table stacked with datapads and a large communications array on it, at which another clone commander stood,

“It’s happened twice so far, as pro-empire supporters know most of the lower levels of the city are rife with dissidents, but it’s not a good enough excuse to hurt a civilian,” Cody said, disappointment in his tone, “Rex, Breha Organa responded to our message!” he called out as they walked towards the table and the other clone looked up, a red and healing scar on the left side of his face drawing Breha’s eyes as he turned to face them.

Breha felt a wave of sympathy for the man as she realised his left arm was also missing, and under the shoulder pauldron, the skin that was exposed looked badly burnt, reaching up the left side of his neck and lower face,

“Commander Rex,” she said, nodding her head in greeting. The man smiled at her,

“You came,” he said, putting down his datapad and sounding surprised,

“I thought whomever knew we helped the jedi and didn’t immediately report us to the emperor probably was a friend, even if they would have once been an enemy,” she replied, taking a seat at the table, Rex and Cody doing the same opposite her,

“It was brave, Ma’am, and we’re happy you’re here,” Cody said and Breha rolled her eyes,

“Enough with the ma’am business, my name is Breha,” she corrected them, and the clones exchanged a glance,

“Right, er, Breha,” Cody said, “well thank you for coming,”

“My husband and I are here to help,” she said, looking between the two of them and ignoring the pain in her entire body, acknowledging that she’d be sore tomorrow,

“Well then, we might as well get down to business,” Rex said, handing her a datapad.

Breha scanned the document, looking at the plans and layout in front of her, “what is this?” she asked, looking up at them,

“It’s the layout for the new imperial palace,” Rex responded and Breha let out a surprised laugh, unbelieving,

“How did you get this information?”

“Ah, well we just look like all the other clones, don’t we?” Cody said with a grimace, “our brothers have lost their sense of self, but we…we didn’t,” he looked at Rex who shrugged, or did an approximation of it, given that his left shoulder didn’t seem to be able to move,

“We got into the building site, where the jedi temple had been razed to the ground. We managed to get a copy of the plans and leave without being noticed at all,”

“And how long have you guys been here, running what – a rebellion?’ Breha asked, looking between them,

“Three weeks, but we didn’t build this place,” Cody replied, “it’s been here for who knows how long. As to the rebellion, well, when order sixty-six came through, I was on my way back from Utapau because General Kenobi ran off like sith hounds were on his tail, and I…followed.” Cody looked like a part of him regretted his actions, but Breha wasn’t sure now was the time to address it.

“By the time I landed here on Coruscant, all our clone brothers were little more than the clankers we’ve been fighting, the temple was under attack, and I knew that the grand army of the republic was not the place for me anymore,” he said, venom in his words as his fist clenched and his eyes flashed, and Breha could not even fathom how that must have felt,

“Order sixty-six?” she asked, confused and Rex sighed,

“It was from Palpatine. It was an order that triggered a chip that was implanted in the back of our necks. All the clones turned on their jedi generals,” Breha knew she had a look of horror on her face as understanding dawning on her,

“Is that why…is that why they attacked the temple?” she asked in a quiet voice,

“Yes,” Rex replied, shame in his voice. Breha hesitated as she looked between the two of them, and Cody seemed to guess where her mind had gone,

“I discovered my chip two months ago, and had it surgically removed, when General Kenobi gave us some shore leave,” a note of guilt suffused the words, but he persisted, “I didn’t tell anyone,”

“It was absolutely your right to do so,” Breha said immediately and Cody nodded his head in thanks, though it seemed that the words did not really reach him,

“And I managed to fight the initial order, and ripped the chip out from under my skin,” Rex said, his lips curving in a sardonic smile, “unfortunately when you do that, they explode,”

Cody placed a comforting hand on his good shoulder and Breha once again felt sorrow and anger in an equal mix – so many people’s lives have been utterly shattered, and it’s all because of the actions of their leader – a man who was supposed to be acting in everyone’s best interests.

“Anyway, the point is, that we can slip in and out of the new build site very easily,” Rex said, changing the subject, for which Breha was glad, out of her depth with these soldiers, these men who had already lost everything, “and we have identified key sites at which we can hinder building efforts, harass the new senate and gain both weapons and supplies for ourselves,”

“How many people are down here?” Breha enquired,

“Well, we’ve got twenty, not including ourselves – sentients from all walks of life,” Cody said, sounding pleased, “many people refused to believe the jedi were traitors, and as I landed and contacted Rex, I ran into police officers, ex-soldiers and pilots of the republic, as well as a few civilians, who could not believe what was happening,”

“So, people knew about the attack at the temple?” Breha asked, “why did no one come to help?”

“Oh yes, people knew,” Rex replied, “but most were too stunned by the whole thing, and from the outside, all we could see was fire and hear the sounds of a battle. We don’t know what happened inside,”

“Not to mention that the Emperor sounded very convincing when he announced that the jedi had engineered the entire war, and were responsible for the deaths of millions,” Cody added, bitter, “but of course when that holo broadcast went out, all the jedi were already dead, and we were in the lower city, with the few friends that we made. We’ve been down here, planning and biding our time, and more people came to us, as they heard about it,” Cody continued, “now you’re here, it’s that much easier,”

“How so?”

“Your husband has access to the senate. We need eyes, we need ears. And most importantly, we need you to be able to get stuff for us to him or from him, as you have every right to visit Senator Organa in the senate building,”

Breha grinned, “sounds like something I can do,” she replied and the clones grinned back at her.

She was amazed that these men had stayed so resilient despite every reason to give up. Wondering what she could do for them, she thought of the jedi whom she had left behind on Razonai and grinned,

“Before we do anything, though, I imagine that there are some jedi that would love to hear from you,” she said and watched in pleasure as the clones’ faces lit up,

“You mean there are some alive? They’re within contact?” Rex asked as though he couldn’t believe it,

“You knew we helped them escape,” Breha said reasonably, and the clone scoffed,

“We know you got off planet, and then returned after you were boarded and looted in the middle of the outer rim,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “it sounded like everything had gone wrong,”

“Ah yes,” Breha said, understanding now. From an outsider’s view it would have looked like that, she supposed, “well that was part of the plan, so I’m glad it worked out,”

She reached forwards to the communications array, “now remember, the jedi are just as grumpy as they have always been,” she said, and both commanders laughed, “you can record a message and Bail and I will make sure it gets to them!”

As they set up the recorders, and Breha thought about how she was going to get the video message to Razonai, she was sore and she was saddened at the position the clones had been forced into - but she was also so glad she had taken the up the invite to visit Maid’s Keep.

* * *

Anakin walked towards the mess as Obi-Wan turned and headed for Master Yoda’s quarters to inform him of their experience and the ultimatum put forward by the force entity.

His mood was alternating between exhilarated and terrified, extremely disappointed in himself, as he reviewed his actions over the last couple of hours.

He had willingly _fought_ with a jedi, one of the few that remained, only a couple of weeks after he had _killed many jedi_ in a rage and darkness fuelled attack on their home.

Anakin rubbed the palm of his right hand against his forehead, struggling to believe his own stupidity – and then, if they hadn’t been close to the temple they might have lost yet another of their own because they were busy quarrelling – and over what?

Obi-Wan’s affection?

The man that neither of them had any kriffing right to be fighting over because firstly, he didn’t even know they saw him that way because the man could be so blind sometimes Anakin wanted to hit some sense into him, and secondly, he wasn’t anyone’s property, and Anakin felt ashamed that he could even feel so possessive of another person.

And then…and just then…Force, help him. 

As Anakin rounded the corner into the mess, he wished he could throw himself off the nearest cliff without also hurting Obi-Wan, because he had nearly given into the pull of his instinct, the bond happily supporting his train of thought, and confessed his love to his former master.

Wouldn’t that have gone spectacularly well.

Well done, Anakin thought to himself, savagely, grabbing a tray at the serving window and spooning on helpings of vegetables and meat with more force than was strictly necessary, agitated and unsettled.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were stunning up close, he thought, little flecks of yellow and green in them, sometimes only visible in bright light, but tonight Anakin had seen a galaxy in them, wishing he could have stayed there forever. 

Closing his own eyes in frustration, Anakin took a deep breath, forcing those memories and the desire that accompanied them to the back of his mind, and walking towards the master’s table.

What was he going to tell Obi-Wan, he thought to himself in panic, what did Obi-Wan have in mind when he said they had to talk about it?

Surely Obi-Wan would not believe that he was acting on the pull of the bond alone – the bond didn’t create these feelings in him, they just made them so much harder to ignore.

And Obi-Wan’s reactions had felt so real, Anakin flushing as he remembered the rush of heat coming over the bond when he had pulled back from the impromptu hug, scared as he was at the thought of Obi-Wan being taken from him.

But his response could have be an illusion –

It _was_ an illusion, he corrected himself, cutting a piece of meat off and chewing angrily. Obi-Wan’s emotions and feelings _weren’t_ real, and he was _not_ going to keep thinking about this.

A distraction arrived in the form of Quinlan Vos and Anakin could admit to himself that he had hit rock bottom when the man he had been flinging around in anger only a couple of hours ago became a welcome appearance in his life.

For a moment, the Kiffar paused in the doorway, clearly having just returned from outside, given the state of his clothes, with intent to get some food.

They stared at each other, and Anakin swallowed painfully, “Vos,” he greeted, nodding his head.

That seemed to convince the master that he wasn’t looking for a fight, and Quinlan walked over to the kitchen window to serve himself.

Anakin watched him as he loaded his tray and turned around, wondering if he would sit somewhere else.

The Kiffar seemed to have that same debate with himself before he too swallowed and headed for the same table as Anakin. He slid into the seat opposite, and started tearing into his meal with gusto, Anakin holding his silence until the other man glanced up after a few minutes, looking startled to find Anakin’s eyes on him,

“I’m…sorry,” Anakin said, slowly, the words difficult but necessary, as Anakin was aware he should never have raised a hand against the man, and though it had felt good, acknowledged that it was wrong.

The Kiffar looked surprised, before he grimaced and nodded,

“No, Skywalker,” he said, shaking his head, “I threw the first punch. I shouldn’t have done it.” His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, as though very tired, and he took a sip of the juice he had brought over with him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Anakin felt very strange, their truce a tentative and extremely new one, especially given the years of snide comments and glares,

“I shouldn’t have taunted you,” Anakin replied, and Vos raised an eyebrow in response, putting the glass of juice back down.

They ate in silence for a while longer, Anakin’s mind a mess of emotions and thoughts even as Obi-Wan’s side of the bond became more still, and more peaceful. 

Their awkwardness had settled into something almost comfortable, the two of them focused on their meals, when Vos shifted and took a breath in from across the table, prompting Anakin to look up. 

The Kiffar was staring at him, with his mouth open as though he was trying to say something, but had gotten stuck on the wording.

“Yes?” Anakin asked, and Vos closed his mouth, screwing up his nose and then breathing out, his muscles rippling as his fingers fidgeted with the cutlery. He pursed his lips, licked them, and then drew in another breath,

“Do you love him?” he asked, hesitantly, his braids falling forward over his shoulder as he brought both elbows up onto the table, joining his hands under his chin to rest his head there, his gaze intent.

Anakin’s throat constricted, the direct question terrifying for the magnitude of what it was asking him to admit, especially given that until recently, _any_ emotions were heavily reprimanded and he had become very comfortable with feeling them, but never expressing them aloud. 

The Kiffar didn’t push, but simply continued staring at him, and Anakin took another bite, chewed and swallowed before he looked back up into that level stare, steadying himself.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice wavering, but loud enough to be heard.

Vos sighed and leaned back, pulling his hair up off his shoulders to expose the large and well-defined muscles there, looking every bit the assassin he had been, the bruises darkening on his jaw only adding to the roguish picture,

“We seem to be at an impasse,” he said then, finishing of a ponytail and folding his arms across his chest.

Anakin made a face and frowned, “so it would seem,” he replied, putting down his cutlery, intrigued at which direction the Kiffar was going to take this, and equally unwilling to hear anymore,

“Look, Skywalker, I’ll be frank with you,” Vos said, leaning forward again, “you and I both know how we feel, but the reality is, neither of us have actually approached Obi-Wan, am I right?”

Anakin nodded, also leaning forward, taking in the hard set of the Kiffar’s jaw as anxiety niggled just under his heart,

“Well I’m going to Ilum tomorrow, to get kyber crystals with the padawans,” Vos said and Anakin blinked at this non-sequitur, but then he continued, “I might not come back – Ilum will be watched by the sith and his minions,”

Anakin forgot about Obi-Wan for an instant, as his pride took a beating, “I upgraded the stealth cover on the shuttle, you should be able to cloak all the way onto the planet,” he said, offended that the Kiffar doubted his not inconsiderable engineering skills. Vos rolled his eyes,

“Yes I know, and…thank you for that,” the words sounded painful, but Anakin found he appreciated the effort anyway, “but the planet itself is dangerous enough, and we don’t know what technology the sith have, and whether they’d be able to follow us anyway,” he shrugged, as though his death was something he had simply accepted and moved on,

“Reason I’m bringing this up though, is that I don’t intend to die with unresolved business,”

Anakin’s heart dropped to somewhere lower than the floor of this ship, twisting and kicking as it went.

Vos looked determined as he continued, “I’m telling Obi-Wan just why we got into it today, Skywalker. I still don’t think I am worth a damn thing, but he’s…he’s seen worth in me even when I didn’t deserve it. I’m not about to go to my death without at least knowing…” the Kiffar looked away before he looked back at Anakin, who was panicking in his seat,

“Not without at least telling him how I feel,” The Kiffar seemed to deflate at the sentence, as though this was almost a practice for the real thing and Anakin could do nothing but stare back at him.

Silence reigned for a moment and Vos fidgeted with a braid, “well, are you going to say anything, Skywalker?” he asked, and Anakin took a breath,

“I – I don’t know what else to say,” he said truthfully, suddenly not very hungry at all,

“Well I thought I’d let you know, at least,” Vos said, “you fought well today, Skywalker, and Kom would have died without you,” he reached across the table to pat Anakin’s shoulder awkwardly, “but you’ve stolen Obi-Wan’s attention from the moment you joined us, and I’m not about to pretend like that is something we can just move past,”

Anakin met his gaze, knowing there was probably notes of hysteria in his own, as he flailed about in his own mind, his brain demanding he do something, anything, but unable to come up with a single answer, as the bond pushed and pulled on the tide of power that shifted between him and the man at the centre of his crisis, 

‘I – I did?” he asked, and Vos scoffed, getting to his feet,

“That innocent act won’t work with me, Skywalker,” he said, picking up his tray, “only an idiot wouldn’t want to be around him. I get it. But I’m not going to die without at least telling him that he has that effect on me too,” Vos walked off then, to the kitchen window where he deposited his tray.

Turning back, he walked past the table on his way out, “you should close your mouth, Skywalker, before something flies in,”

And he was gone.

Anakin did shut his mouth, but he didn’t move, glued to the bench.

Had he just lost his chance with Obi-Wan? Did he want to stop Vos, given that a part of him feared the attachment, feared the danger he brought to anyone he had been involved with? Isn’t this the best thing for Obi-Wan anyway?

He felt like he was asking himself the same questions over and over again.

Force.

Pushing himself away from the bench, Anakin walked slowly to their quarters.

It was out of his hands now, he realised, with a sinking feeling. It was going to be up to Obi-Wan.

And he was happy for him, he _was_ , he tried to reassure himself.

His master deserved a choice, and a chance to be happy.

A part of him protested that Obi-Wan didn’t know he _had_ a choice in the first place, but he pushed it away, the very thought of telling Obi-Wan how he felt making him slightly sick.

With a sigh, Anakin entered their quarters, to find Vos dropping into the space next to Obi-Wan on the bed, his place by Obi-Wan’s side cemented while Anakin had been trapped in his own mind, fighting the darkness that he had let it.

It was all riding on Obi-Wan’s choices, now.

* * *

Bail loitered around by the buffet table; the senate session given a one-hour intermission for lunch.

As he picked up whatever food came to hand first, he wondered nervously if he should call Breha, who should have contacted the resistance by now, or if he would endanger her by doing so.

Taking a bite and immediately regretting his decision, Bail winced and stared at it in disgust,

“Yeah, they’re pretty terrible, right?” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to a see a red guard, almost offensively bright compared to the otherwise drab blues and greys of the senators around them, talking to him. The plastic red visor he was supposed to be wearing was under his arm, and in his hand he held the same little snack ball that Bail had been eating.

The senator knew he looked perplexed and the young man, for he could not be older than twenty, laughed, “ah, is it the uniform?” he asked,

“Well, your numbers have doubled rather recently,” Bail said, and the kid nodded,

“Yes, the emperor only hired us about a week ago,”

“And you’re a…warrior?” Bail asked, unconvinced. The kid smiled ruefully,

“I was the best in Mandalore’s planet defence training program,” he said, his chest puffing with pride, “a month ago me and my classmates were on a routine patrol around Mandalore when our ship crashed and was suddenly transported to the far outer rim in a wormhole or something. I ended up here on Coruscant, and fighting in the duelling rings in the undercity, to try and get some money to get back home,”

“Ah, a dangerous place,” Bail replied, walking towards the kid and gesturing at the balcony, the guard falling into step with him,

“Very,” he replied, finishing off the snack in his hand, “but after the jedi turned traitors, the Emperor called for anyone who could fight to apply for his new Royal Guard,”

“And you got through the selection process?” Bail asked, as they emerged from the meeting room and into the weak daylight while rain pattered down on the city, obscuring the tallest peaks of the buildings,

“Yes, I did,” he said with a proud smile,

“Well done,” Bail complimented him, even as he felt pity for this kid, idealism and pride still shining brightly in his eyes, untouched by the politics and war that Bail had lived through,

“It’s a pity about the jedi though,” the kid added, looking straight ahead,

“Is it?” Bail asked, keeping his voice neutral, even if his interest was piqued,

“I can’t believe they would sell the republic out like that,” he shook his head, in disappointment, “I had always hoped to meet one someday,”

“Well, I guess it’s just not meant to be,” Bail replied, turning to look out at the city as well.

He would keep this kid in mind – perhaps they could sway him over to their side, “aren’t you supposed to be on duty now?” Bail asked, and the guard shook his head,

“The Emperor said he did not need us for the intermission,” he replied,

“What is your name?” Bail asked, putting the rest of the unpalatable food into his mouth, and forcing himself to eat it, loathe to waste food,

“Officer Devrow Talfer,” he replied, bowing in respect and Bail smiled,

“A solid Mandalorian name,” he said in response and the kid laughed, “and I am Senator Bail Organa,”

The bell sounded behind them, calling the senators back to the floor, “it was lovely to meet you senator Organa!” Devrow said as he put his helmet back on, immediately transforming him into the terrifying monsters that followed Palpatine around,

“Listen, come by sometime this week, I’m sure my wife would love to meet you,” Bail said, and the kid paused as though surprise, and then nodded. With a wave that completely destroyed the image the uniform was trying to create, he hurried back for the senate floor, while Bail followed at a slower pace, thinking.

As he entered the hall with the other senators and ascended to his own box, Bail hoped Breha had had some luck with her contact.

If things worked out, they might just have a chance at this rebellion thing.

* * *

Last night had been a strange one, Obi-Wan thought as he fed Leia in the first rays of morning light, the cabin quiet around him as Quinlan and Anakin both slept, Luke already fed and back in the crib.

After he had approached Yoda and told him about the force entity that was threatening their existence here on Razonai, Yoda had suggested that he and Anakin should accept the offer, after a night of rest, as they had little choice with something so powerful.

After he had been dismissed, Obi-Wan had intended to go and tell Anakin as much, but as he walked past their quarters he heard the children crying and had gone to them instead, neither Luke nor Leia ever truly happy when left with a droid, and both immediately calming when he looked into the crib, tickling their bellies and holding their feet and hands.

Tiredness had hit him as he played with the children, and he figured that once Anakin had eaten he would come back to the cabin anyway, so Obi-Wan had dropped onto the bed, pulling out a datapad to read through the memos that had been sent between the masters, noting several new messages regarding the status of the temple and pending work.

Reading through them curiously, having been very involved with Yoda and not the practical building activities, he spent half an hour with himself, enjoying the solitude of it after days and days of being surrounded by people.

Quinlan had walked in some time later, looking as tired as he felt, and dropped into the bed next to him. Obi-Wan had greeted him and asked about what he had been doing with his evening when Anakin walked through the door, a pall of anxiety coming in with him.

Obi-Wan wanted to address it, but also knew that if Quinlan was here he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the younger man, so he let it be.

And so the three of them had effectively ignored the elephant in the room, and both Anakin and Quinlan were oddly polite to each other as they went about their evening routine, Obi-Wan watching them and the bond, expecting the animosity to come back, given that they had thrashed each other earlier and he still didn’t really know why.

But it hadn’t, and they had made it through the evening and gone to bed, the children quiet in their crib, and Obi-Wan surprised but happy.

The children continued to sleep through the night and only woke them at six, all three of them responding to the cries, but Obi-Wan telling everyone else to go to sleep, relatively certain that it was his turn.

Looking down at Leia, who’s cheeks were getting chubbier and had a permanent rosy blush on them, he smiled, “you’re daddy’s really difficult sometimes, isn’t he?” he asked softly, putting the bottle down and holding her out in front of him, resting his forearms on the desk.

She babbled softly, dressed in a pale green one-piece suit, buttoned up at the front, and covered in small cartoon stars, her small arms and legs moving with her excitement,

“Yes, I know. I wouldn’t want it any other way either,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her on the nose, drawing a pleased squeal out of her, “do you think you’ll be good for the other jedi, while we’re both gone though?” he asked her, taking her small hand in his, the entire hand wrapping around the tip of his index finger, “we might be gone for a while,”

She made a sound that sounded like an agreement, and Obi-Wan laughed quietly at her,

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said,

“You know she’s probably just saying that to get you to keep playing with her,’ Quinlan’s quiet voice came from over his shoulder and Obi-Wan turned to look at him,

“Yes, probably,” he replied, taking in the Kiffar’s sleep messed hair and clothes, the singlet he was wearing tight over his torso, and the exercise pants hanging low on his waist, “but I thought I’d try and convince her,” he added, keeping his voice down as Anakin slept on.

Getting to his feet, he walked around Quinlan to put Leia back in the crib, making sure to tuck her back in with her brother,

“Breakfast?” Quinlan asked, stretching as he did and wandering over to the cabinet,

“Sounds like a plan,” Obi-Wan replied.

Waiting for the Kiffar to pull on his tunic and belt, they left the cabin as quietly as they could and headed for the mess. The ship was silent as they walked through and Obi-Wan enjoyed the peace of it, though as Quinlan repeatedly played with his hair, he wondered if the Kiffar was experiencing the same calm or if something was perhaps bothering him.

The droids were already busy at work, and as they both approached the kitchen, they were presented with freshly cooked eggs, and a range of other breakfast options, the eggs being one of the fresh items that Obi-Wan picked up on Serenno.

Serving themselves, they walked over to the master’s table.

As they sat down, Quinlan didn’t say anything, but Obi-Wan could tell something wasn’t quite right, and had a feeling it had something to do with Anakin,

“Is everything okay?” he asked, thinking that maybe he’d get some answers out of Quinlan as to what had happened between the two of them, rather than the riddles and confusion he got for his efforts with Anakin.

Quinlan looked up quickly, as though startled out of his thoughts, “Er - ” he replied, his eyes blank and fumbling for words. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow,

“Very eloquent,” he teased with a small laugh as Quinlan glared back in mock affront,

“It’s early, not all of us wake up with the ability to talk our way out of any situation,” he sniped back,

“Well that’s just not good enough, is it?” Obi-Wan said and ducked as Quinlan sent a piece of toast flying at him,

“Very childish, Master Vos,” he admonished, even as happiness sat warm in his chest, feeling like a padawan once more, his amusement reflected in Quinlan’s eyes,

“You bring out the best in me,” Quinlan replied with a grin, their voices echoing around the empty room. As it faded off, the two of them continued with their meal, the sound of their cutlery on the trays loud around them,

“When are you heading off?” Obi-Wan asked, and Quinlan shrugged, taking a bite of his eggs with relish,

“Probably by nine or ten. I think the padawans were briefed last night by Cin, and they were told to sleep well,” he said, 

“Are they ready for their gathering?” Obi-Wan asked, seriously and Quinlan shook his head,

“They’re not,” he said, his mouth twisted downwards, “their masters were off planet, there was a war on – they didn’t get the attention they should have,”

“Unfortunate,”

“But I’ll do what I can to help them, it’s still got to be them that gets the crystals for themselves, but they’re not going in on their own,”

“Thank you for agreeing to take them, I can’t imagine it was an easy decision,” Obi-Wan said, sincerely and Quinlan smiled at him,

“Who can say no to the jedi council?” Quinlan asked,

“You.” Obi-Wan replied immediately, “many times,” he reminded him and the Kiffar nodded in acknowledgement as he sipped his caf.

Quiet fell over them for a minute more, Obi-Wan still feeling some tension in the air around Quinlan that their light-hearted conversation had failed to break, but unsure how they were going to address it.

Finally, just as he was finished his meal, Quinlan cleared his throat and Obi-Wan looked up.

The Kiffar had a braid in his left hand was playing with it, his teeth exposed in a grimace as he thought, looking like he was struggling with something,

“Seriously, Quin, you’ve been a jumpy all morning,” Obi-Wan said, his tone firm, “what’s wrong? Is it the mission that you’re worried about?”

The Kiffar shifted forward then, and tilted his head to the side, “in a way,” he evaded, dropping the braid and crossing his arms over to lean forward onto the table, pushing the tray forward as he did,

“Well, it is dangerous…but that’s not it, is it?” Obi-Wan asked, astutely and the Kiffar nodded,

“Hmmm,” he said, noncommittally. He took another breath and tapped his finger lightly against his upper arm, seeming to steel himself, “there was something I wanted to tell you,” he started, “and I know – look I know it might not be the time, or – or even my place,”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, watching as the Kiffar looked everywhere but him as he continued,

“And I know how you feel – I mean I don’t know _how_ you feel exactly, but I get that you might have feelings – and I don’t want to change your mind!”

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan cut him off and the Kiffar stopped, “you’re not making any sense,”

Quinlan blinked and then sighed, looking down at the table before he looked back up again,

“I…am…very fond of you, Obi-Wan,” he breathed at last, and Obi-Wan felt the warmth in his chest grow, surprised, “and I mean – in the uh, in the sappy nonsense romantic way,” he said, his finger tapping even faster against his arm, clearly nervous.

Obi-Wan knew his mouth was open in surprise, but didn’t have the wherewithal to close it initially, the shock of the declaration leaving him speechless. He re-analysed the very anxious demeanour of the man in front of him, his odd reactions over the last few days, and all their interactions over the long span of their friendship.

With every memory came the fondness he had always held for Quinlan, and the surprise was quickly swept away, as he realised his friend was only getting more worried with the longer the silence passed between them.

He swallowed, caught in a position he hadn’t expected, but unable to deny that Quinlan was here, in front of him, and from his tone and expression, completely serious.

Obi-Wan reached out slowly, laying his hand over the one tapping in agitation, and pulling it forward so that he was holding it in his own.

The skin was rough and calloused from years of sabre and blade work, but the feel of it was familiar, and Quinlan didn’t pull away, instead returning the hold, his entire posture seeming to relax as he took in Obi-Wan’s reaction, 

“Quin…” he started,

“No wait, I just want to add something, before you say anything,” the Kiffar cut in quickly, holding out his other hand, “this isn’t something new, Obi,” he glanced away, taking another deep breath, “I’ve felt it for a long time, before things got so complicated. But then you met Satine and I didn’t…I didn’t want to say anything cause you were happy,” he smiled slightly then, his canines catching on his lower lip as he bit it, “and then we were separated by our work, and then Skywalker was in your life, and there was…somehow there was just no time,” Quinlan shrugged, “I was a coward to wait this long, but I don’t know if I’m coming back from Ilum,”

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened on the Kiffar’s hand and Quinlan responded by doing the same, his fingers wrapping around Obi-Wan’s smaller hand,

“But the ship is well cloaked, and the padawans are reliable if not a little young and inexperienced,” Obi-Wan said in reassurance, and Quinlan shook his head,

“I do not fear death, Obi-Wan,” he said, “I feared going without at least letting you know that…my…affection for you has been the one constant in my life. When I lost everything, I still had you. Your friendship and support has meant more to me than anything else in this galaxy,”

Obi-Wan felt like his heart was being stomped on.

This felt like a goodbye.

“Quinlan please,” he said, getting to his feet and tugging the other master up as well, the Kiffar looking perplexed before Obi-Wan pulled him into a hug, the man taller and broader than him, but a solid presence that he had come to depend on.

He had never thought of Quinlan in any other way than friendship over the long years of their acquaintance, but he did love him dearly.

“Obi-Wan” Quinlan said, pulling out of the hug and moving back slightly, holding him at arm’s length,

“I refuse to say goodbye to you,” Obi-Wan said, emotion tightening his voice.

The Kiffar huffed a laugh, “I’m not ready to die yet either, don’t worry. I just needed you to know that you have me. That…you have another choice. Skywalker doesn’t have to be the only one,” he said and Obi-Wan’s mind stuttered, having processed one shock and apparently not quite ready for a second,

“Anakin?” he asked, wondering what the relevance was and Quinlan reached out a hand, touching Obi-Wan’s jaw with gentleness,

“You’ve got feelings for him, Obi-Wan,” he said, the words pained, “I could see it two years ago when we met up for that mission near Florrum, and it’s only grown since then,”

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, ashamed,

“No, don’t be blaming yourself now,” Quinlan said immediately, moving closer until Obi-Wan looked up again, searching Quinlan’s face and finding no judgement there,

“He was my padawan,” Obi-Wan said in a strangled voice, struggling with how transparent he had been, wondering why Anakin hadn’t just left the first minute he had a chance to, disgusted at his master’s behaviour,

“He was always going to be more than that,” Quinlan corrected him, sadness in his voice, “and the kid…the kid likes you too, Obi-Wan,”

“That’s the bond,” Obi-Wan replied immediately, hating how a part of his heart yelled at him that it wasn’t the way it should be, turning away from Quinlan and leaning against one of the chairs, his hand coming up to rest over his mouth.

Quinlan shook his head again, “the bond might be making things more noticeable,” he said, with confidence, “but your feelings and his feelings have been there a lot longer than the big mess we’ve landed in over here,”

"My feelings, maybe," Obi-Wan said and Quinlan snorted,

"You never seem to realise the effect you have on people Obi-Wan," he said, sincerely, "Skywalker's got it bad for you,"

"He was married," Obi-Wan replied, struggling to push the doubt away, 

"And now he isn't," Quinlan said, firmly "your relationship has always been deeper than any other," he sighed, "it's time you acknowledged that, Obi-Wan,"

Obi-Wan looked back at him, hope rising in his chest at what Quinlan was suggesting. Perhaps it was truly time to have a real talk with Anakin, and stop making assumptions about the other man. Obi-Wan pushed those thoughts aside though, as he took in Quinlan's defeated figure and guilt rose him - wanting Anakin to want him the same way that he did meant that he couldn’t return Quinlan’s affection, 

“I care for you too, Quin,” Obi-Wan said gently, and the Kiffar smiled sadly,

“But not the same way you care for him,” he said, a note of finality in his voice.

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to voice the words but also not willing to lead his friend on, his heart hurting that he had to make the choice at all.

The Kiffar sighed, “your friendship is worth everything to me,” he said, and Obi-Wan reached out then, placing a hand on Quinlan’s forearm, the muscles solid and warm under his touch,

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he said, and Quinlan nodded,

“If you do change your mind though, Obi-Wan,” he said, seriously, moving closer, “Or the kid kriffs it up in some other way, I’ll be here,”

Obi-Wan nodded, wondering what he had done to ever deserve such loyalty or such love, and wishing he could do something to ease the pain in Quinlan’s eyes,

“I’m going to go get ready,” Quinlan said, moving away and causing Obi-Wan’s hand to drop off his arm, glancing to the chronometer on his wrist,

“I’ll probably go and have another chat to Master Yoda, then, he’ll probably have something more to say by now,” Obi-Wan said, thinking it might be useful, but mostly just wanting to give the Kiffar some room, or time away from him, hoping that he hadn’t damaged their relationship by letting Quinlan down. 

They walked out of the mess together, and though Quinlan was hurting, the Kiffar’s smile was genuine when they parted ways, his grip firm and reassuring on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he said a non-verbal farewell, and Obi-Wan continued onwards to the grandmaster’s suite.

He was welcomed in immediately, Yoda already dressed, and joined him on the floor as they discussed plans for that day, as around them the sounds of Padawans in the corridor and a jumble of older voices told them the rest of the ship was waking up, and heading to breakfast as time crept on.

Finishing their discussion, Obi-Wan followed Yoda out and into the mess, where, with the sun shining brightly in through the narrow viewports, all the padawans and masters were gathered, including Anakin, who waved when he spotted him.

Yoda addressed the hall in general as Obi-Wan took his seat beside Anakin, acknowledging Quinlan with an amused glance as the Kiffar enthusiastically shovelled a second breakfast of fruit and the local edible flowers into his mouth, the Kiffar smiling around it and a lightness to their relationship returning, missing as it had been these past few days.

He felt anxiety and worry over the bond and turned his gaze to Anakin, who was watching him intently, and sent a pulse of reassurance over to help calm him, as Yoda continued,

“Depart in ten minutes we will. In the hangar you all should be,” he said, and the padawans, talking excitedly, got up from their table and filed out of the mess, the initiates who sat at the table next to them following with equally excited chatter, talk of adventures and heroics bouncing between them.

“Ready to depart are you, Master Vos?” Yoda asked, looking over to the master’s table, and Quinlan raised his free hand to signal that he was, the other holding a citrus fruit to his mouth as he drew the juice out of it.

Yoda hummed, and turned around to shuffle back out of the mess.

“Best of luck today, Vos,” Cin said from across Obi-Wan,

“Yes, travel with the force, and bring the children back as jedi,” Zobon added. 

Quinlan grinned at them as he swallowed another mouthful, “well if it’s anything like my gathering, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said, looking between them,

“You fell down a crevice and Reita and I had to pull you out,” Obi-Wan said dryly and Quinlan’s smile only grew wider,

“Precisely, Master Kenobi,” he said, his usual good humour restored and Obi-Wan glad for it,

“I hope the force goes with you, Vos,” Anakin said stiffly and Obi-Wan turned in surprise to look at him, unable to stop some of it showing as Quinlan nodded his head in Anakin’s direction, their truce from last night seemingly still going,

“Thank you, Skywalker. Best of luck with the force thing that’s chasing you,” he said and Obi-Wan sighed,

“Chasing _us_ , I think,” he corrected, and Quinlan acknowledged it by raising the last piece of fruit before he threw it into his mouth.

The masters left the table together, then, walking back to the bedroom wing, Zobon and Kom engaging Anakin in a discussion regarding the new stealth field generator he had installed and how it worked when in hyperspace.

“I just need to grab one last thing,” Quinlan said, breaking off and heading to their quarters. Obi-Wan stayed behind too, letting Anakin carry on with the others though he did notice that the younger man glanced backwards, his words faltering as his attention shifted,

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said to Anakin, and the other man seemed to be debating with himself, more anxiety coming over the bond, “nothing is going to happen to me in the two seconds I wait for Quin,” he said reprovingly, and Anakin seemed to grow more tense,

“Fine,” he muttered, turning around and stalking off with more attitude than Obi-Wan thought was necessary.

Putting Anakin’s behaviour to the back of his mind, he opened the door to their quarters, stopping just in the doorway as he watched Quinlan with Luke in his arms, the boy raised above his head and babbling with delight,

“Ah, I see, a very important thing to have remembered Master Vos,” Obi-Wan said, in a bad imitation of Yoda’s voice and Quinlan glanced over his shoulder,

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my little masters,” he replied, kissing Luke on the cheek before he put him back into the cradle,

“No, I don’t suppose you could,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling at the image of the dark haired and dark robed figure, tall and muscled, handsomely roughish, making nonsense sounds at the children he so clearly adored, “they’ll miss you,” he added and Quinlan turned away, pulling his robe around him, his lightsabre glinting at his hip,

“I’ll miss them,” he said, walking to the doorway, Obi-Wan turning and continuing with him down the corridor towards the utility stairs and hangar bay,

“You know,” Quinlan said, conversationally, as they turned the corner and started walking down the stairs,

“What?” Obi-Wan asked,

“When knights leave on dangerous missions for their kings, the fair maiden who holds their heart usually gives them a kiss to ensure they return,” Quinlan said, a sly smile on his face as they emerged into the utility corridor.

Obi-Wan laughed out loud and stopped walking in the corridor, the sounds of children’s laughter and voices drifting to them from the open hangar bay doors, and turned to face the Kiffar who did the same, a challenge in his eyes,

“Are you calling me a fair maiden?” he asked, and Quinlan jerked his eyebrows up and down playfully,

“Let’s see, you have a tragic backstory, you’re fated to be with another man, we have known each other since childhood, we have a despot wanting to kill us all, and I _am_ a handsome knight,” he said, matter-of-factly, counting the points off on his fingers, and Obi-Wan grinned then,

“You’ve got a point,” he admitted.

“And I love you,” Quinlan added, slightly more seriously, but much more confidently than this morning, as though he had found a new freedom in the truth between the time Obi-Wan had left him and then come back to the mess hall. The words still sounded odd when directed at him and Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed at hearing them, the open affection on Quinlan’s face foreign but not unwelcome.

Before he could overthink it, the light-heartedness of their teasing still carrying him on, Obi-Wan leaned forward, placed a hand on his jaw, and kissed him.

It was nothing more than a chaste brush on Quinlan’s cheek, that which would be given to family or close friends, and he drew away as quickly as he had leant in, the Kiffar’s eyes so wide it was almost comical,

“You did ask,” Obi-Wan said and Quinlan burst out laughing then, leaning forward so that his forehead touched Obi-Wan’s, before he straightened,

“Well now there’s no way I won’t come back,” he said and Obi-Wan grinned.

“One can only hope,”

“Well, my steed awaits. My lady,” Quinlan said, performing a courtly bowing and gesturing for Obi-Wan to go first. The human master shook his head and did so, so grateful that their relationship hadn’t changed after all, and if anything, that there was a deeper understanding between them now than there was before.

Emerging into the hangar, his eyes immediately sought out Anakin and he saw his back disappearing into the shuttle, probably moving some supplies. The padawans were fully dressed in their robes, each carrying a small backpack, no doubt with the materials they would require to craft their lightsabres,

“Are you ready, Padawans?” Quinlan called out from beside him as they approached, and the younglings jumped and cheered, clearly very excited at the prospect of finally getting the sabre that marks them as a true jedi. The young initiates looked on with jealously, but they were still talking and playing with their older companions happily as Obi-Wan and Quinlan stopped in front of Mater Yoda,

“Go with the force, Master Vos,” Yoda said, reaching out a hand to pat Quinlan’s, the Kiffar towering over him,

“I will, grandmaster,” he said.

Anakin emerged from the ship behind him, but he didn’t look up as he walked towards them,

“Well, I’ll miss you all, and your bright, cheery demeanours,” Quinlan said, looking at the masters. Cin’s glare lost some of its weight as his lips twitched upwards.

With a wink at Obi-Wan, Quinlan hopped up the ramp and into the ship.

Moving back with the other masters, the ramp retracted with smooth click and then the airlocks sealed with a thud and a loud hiss, Obi-Wan watching as the boosters powered on, and the ship moved forward.

Laughing and running after it, the remaining children followed the ship at a safe distance as it extricated itself from the hangar gently, before it cleared the bay doors, and then switched to full power, the engines bright red and loud, and took of a with a boom as the modern shuttle shot Quinlan and the padawans up to the atmosphere and out into space.

Turning to look at Anakin, Obi-Wan was surprised to find him already on his way out of the hangar,

“Master Skywalker, a word please,” Yoda called, and the young man stopped, turned, and then walked back, his sharp steps and agitation over the bond confusing Obi-Wan who was unsure as to what had triggered this change in demeanour,

“Yes?” Anakin asked shortly, coming to a stop next to Obi-Wan,

“Accept the force being’s offer today, you will,” Yoda said, and Anakin nodded,

“Yes Master, Obi-Wan told me last night,” Anakin said, sparing Obi-Wan a shuttered glance before he looked back at the grandmaster.

Obi-Wan felt a stab of irritation, a part of him tired of Anakin’s mood swings, especially as he thought once Anakin cleared twenty he wouldn’t have to worry about them as much,

“Go now you both shall. Wait in the temple today, meditate together. The force being drawn to your shared power will be,” Yoda said and Obi-Wan tried to hide the hurt on his face as Anakin’s side of the bond filled with reluctance, as though the thought of spending time with Obi-Wan suddenly repulsed him,

“Yes master,” he said, bowing to Yoda, “I’ll meet you on the fifth-floor balcony, Obi-Wan,” he said, and then left, as though he could not wait to be rid of Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan knew the other masters were looking at him for a response to Anakin’s unexpectedly cold behaviour, but he didn’t have an answer and he wasn’t keen to share his own feelings on the matter. Looking at Yoda, the grandmaster remained calm as he met Obi-Wan’s gaze,

“Talk with young Skywalker, you must,” he said, a meaningful note in his voice.

Obi-Wan dreaded approaching the young man in his current mood but acknowledged that Yoda had a point. Ignoring the other masters and their curious glares, he bowed to the lot of them and also left, probing the bond and getting a hint of darkness that made him break away in revulsion, not expecting it, not when Anakin’s rehabilitation had been going so well.

What the in the sith hell’s had set Anakin off like this?

Sighing and accepting that this was going to be a long day, and that he had probably been quite foolish to think that a fall to the dark side could be recovered from as smoothly as Anakin had done, he walked to their room to grab their meditation mats, and the bags of food, water and medical supplies he had packed last night.

He wasn’t losing Anakin again.

Of this, he was sure.

* * *

Anakin picked up another block of stone with the force and sent it flying off the balcony, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

Obi-Wan kissed Vos.

He _kissed_ him!

Clenching his fist, Anakin turned one of the other ancient pieces of rubble to dust, anger pounding through his veins as the knife in his chest twisted, the image of Obi-Wan’s smile, and the gentle way his hands had _touched_ –

Anakin yelled, a wordless shout of anguish, feeling the darkness that had been almost eradicated rearing it’s ugly head in the peripheries of his soul.

He had known how dangerous his attachment to Obi-Wan was, but somehow, when he thought of loss, he had expected the threat to come in the form of death.

Not from a choice that Obi-Wan himself had made. 

Had he thought that Vos would be rejected, when the Kiffar told him his plans last night? Is that why he had let it happen? Should he have simply killed Vos yesterday, or stopped him as soon as he had told Anakin of what he had intended to do?

How _dare_ Obi-Wan choose him?

No.

Anakin pulled himself out of that train of thought, breathing harshly as he leant against the shiny new metal railing that they had installed on the balcony, the whole area much improved since he and Obi-Wan had come here what felt like an entire lifetime ago, but was barely more than a week past.

Pieces of fallen stone and other wooden rubble still littered the corridor leading up to the balcony, but in addition to the new guardrail and barrier on the balcony that prevented accidental falls, they had laid down fresh wooden floorboards that evened the whole floor out. The stone chairs they had sat in remained in the back right-hand corner, but there was also a new, long lounge on the left, and the floor had a waterproof rug added in the centre.

Anakin steadied himself, the bond in his head disrupted and uneasy as he felt Obi-Wan’s worry.

He didn’t want to make his master worry, and he didn’t want to hurt Obi-Wan, but it was hard, when he felt like he was bleeding and didn’t have anything with which to staunch the flow.

He just -

He just didn’t expect that Obi-Wan would make a choice so soon.

He had thought -

He had thought that Obi-Wan would have made a different choice. 

He had thought Obi-Wan would have chosen him.

Like he always has. 

Anakin closed his eyes, the fresh breeze of the morning bringing with it the complex and sweet scents of the jungle below, the sun warming him from above.

He felt the bond brighten, telling him Obi-Wan was heading in his general direction.

What was he supposed to say to him? _Should_ he say anything? After all, Obi-Wan didn’t know that he had seen them – perhaps he didn’t want Anakin to know?

The young man sighed and dropped to sit on the rug, his back to the railing and his legs folded underneath him. He closed his eyes once more, focusing on his breathing and pushing away the dark thoughts that whispered their terrible suggestions, coated his memories in the sticky bitterness of regret and tried to tear him away from the path of light that he had fought his way onto.

He began one of the exercises that Yoda had given him, to be used whenever the whispers and nightmares did get out of control. Obi-Wan’s force signature shone brightly through the bond, and Anakin anchored himself onto it with every breath as it grew in intensity, the goodness in it once again stronger than any darkness that he might harbour in his own damaged soul.

Footsteps reached his ears, and he opened his eyes, many degrees calmer than he had been, to see Obi-Wan carrying two backpacks and what looked like an extra food preservation container,

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in greeting, his voice neutral even as the bond jumped with some happiness dimmed by caution, and Anakin wanted to leave, if only so he didn’t have to once again, confront the consequences of his actions.

Clearly, Obi-Wan had noticed his behaviour.

It seemed that no matter how much he changed he still ended up doing the same damage.

“Obi-Wan” he replied, as the older man dropped one backpack next to him, and sat down across from Anakin,

“You left in quite a hurry,” Obi-Wan said, a question in his statement. Anakin considered playing stupid and avoiding it, but as he actually looked at his master, he noted the tightness at the corner of his lips, the shadow in his gaze and the tension across his shoulders.

“I…needed some space,” Anakin replied, instead, truthfully.

Obi-Wan was quiet then, but some of the stiffness went out of his posture and Anakin was relieved that he had chosen correctly,

“Mmm, space is a valuable commodity,” he replied,

“Yes,” Anakin agreed, unsure what else to say.

He looked down to Obi-Wan’s hands, resting on his thighs, and immediately thought of how lightly they had touched Quinlan, wincing with the pain that it brought.

Force, he needed to know, and before he could stop himself, he found himself repeating the question that Vos had asked him last night,

“Do you love him?”

Judging from the surprise on the other end of the bond, and the silence that stretched on between them, it was perhaps an abrupt question that Obi-Wan hadn’t expected. 

“Who?” Obi-Wan asked and the younger man felt irritation before he reminded himself that Obi-Wan would not pretend if he really knew what Anakin was talking about,

“Vos,” Anakin bit out, still glaring down at Obi-Wan’s hands as though they were a separate entity that had wronged him personally. He knew just how gentle those hands could be when they had treated his wounds on the battlefields, and helped him learn his sabre forms when he was younger. He also knew what skill those hands possessed, the controlled and righteous fury with which Obi-Wan wielded the sabre and the force in protection of the jedi and their beliefs,

“Well of course I do,” Obi-Wan replied and Anakin felt an involuntary sound leave him, hating the pain that laced it. The hand he was staring at moved then, and came up to touch him under his chin, gently directing his head upwards.

He didn’t resist, and met pale blue eyes that were staring at him with concern, “he’s my oldest friend,” Obi-Wan said, as though it was a given,

“Of course,” Anakin whispered,

“But I love him _as_ a friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued, a note of reprimand in his voice.

Anakin felt like his heart stuttered and stopped before it remembered to beat again, leaving him dizzy, as elation settled in the pit that had formed in his soul,

“But you kissed him,” Anakin mumbled, the words that had been spinning around and around in his head slipping out of his mouth. He studied the new scar down the side of Obi-Wan’s face as the master raised his eyebrows and a small smile lifted his lips, 

“You were watching?” Obi-Wan asked, a note of something that sounded like amusement in his voice,

“I wanted to know where you were,” Anakin said defensively, his voice louder.

The older man moved his hand then, so that it rested on his shoulder instead, sending electric shocks down Anakin’s spine,

“You always did have a problem with me spending any time with him,” Obi-Wan said, as though it was a warm memory rather than an admonishment,

“Well – yes. He’s a bad influence,” Anakin said, feeling a little foolish at his past actions, and Obi-Wan chuckled,

“He is? Not you and your plans which inevitably brought us in front of the council explaining what we were doing and why we were doing it?” Obi-Wan asked, fondness in his eyes,

“Well – yes, I suppose,” Anakin conceded, his heart soaring as he processed what it seemed that Obi-Wan was telling him, “so…you _don’t_ feel anything for him?” he asked, to make sure,

“Anakin, you’ve seen my side of the bond,” Obi-Wan said, sounding resigned, “Quinlan made a good point that I have not been subtle these last years. My attachment to you is the reason we’re here in the first place. How can you still doubt me?” he asked, and Anakin wanted to launch himself forward, to hold and touch and have, but he stopped himself, his muscles twitching under his skin as he forced himself to sit still.

“You felt what I felt yesterday, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued, his voice dropping in register and Anakin feeling the bond pulse with the remembered hunger, “but we can’t just barrel along and hope for the best. We have to talk about it,”

A part of brain his suggested that maybe he could have a kiss now, if Obi-Wan was just giving them out to anyone who was close to him, but he managed to stop his tongue, and ignore the embarrassment that came with it, focusing back on the point that Obi-Wan was trying to make,

“Yes, I suppose we should,” he agreed, pleased at the composure in his voice,

“The bond is pulling us towards something, Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, pushing his hair back off his face, his cheeks a very becoming shade of pink, and the stubble that he was trying to grow back into a beard adding a level of attractiveness that Anakin found hard to ignore, especially when he had, for the first time in his life, gotten Obi-Wan to admit to anything other than the appropriate feelings for him.

“It’s not just the bond that’s creating these feelings in us,” Anakin replied, bolder now, an admission of his own love in the words though he was still not brave enough to say it outright, and watched as Obi-Wan swallowed nervously, doubt flashing across his face,

“No, it’s not,” Obi-Wan agreed, finally, and Anakin wanted to interrupt because he wondered for a moment at the defeated tone - didn't Obi-Wan understand what he was trying to say?

“But what matters is what we do about this,” Obi-Wan continued, his voice serious, and Anakin cursed his own cowardice at being unable to express how he felt even in the face of Obi-Wan's doubt and instead simply listened as he went on,

“Anakin we’re in the middle of a war. We have the jedi, your children, and the future of the galaxy to think about,” he sighed, “it’s not about what we want. It’s about doing what’s right,”

“You always do what’s right,” Anakin responded, knowing that even with the petulance in his voice he respected that about Obi-Wan, and loved him more for it,

“We are jedi,” Obi-Wan said, “if we live through this, we can worry about these feelings. In the meantime, I think it’s important not to do anything that will jeopardise ourselves, or the people around us,”

Anakin could see the wisdom in those words.

The bond was calm and happy between them, but the sheer power of it meant that if their lives became entangled, even more so than they were already, that it could blow up in their faces and effect the entire enclave. 

This was especially true as Anakin still felt like he was walking in the light, but at his heels the darkness nipped and brayed, waiting for him to trip, to slip, to make one more mistake. This time, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be there to save him – because if he fell, so did Obi-Wan.

“I see where you are coming from,” he said, in what was definitely an understatement,

“But?” Obi-Wan prompted,

“But what I should do and what I actually do have always been different things for me, and sometimes I feel like I never make the right decisions,” Anakin said, a truth that he was ashamed to admit, but a truth none the less. Obi-Wan nodded,

“It is…difficult for me also, in this case” he said, taking his hand back and letting it rest on his knee, “but I think if we simply don’t give ourselves a chance to aggravate the situation, then we should be okay, and I trust you, Anakin,”

“What, so I just don’t touch you for the interminable future?” Anakin asked, the thought an unappealing one. From the tilt of Obi-Wan’s mouth and dissatisfaction across the bond he clearly didn’t like the idea either,

“We can’t…get distracted,” Obi-Wan said, running a hand over his jaw, “if what happened between us yesterday happens again and we’re under attack, or the master’s need us, or the padawans were in trouble, we would be hurting the people who depend on us,”

“We just have to resist, then,” Anakin said and Obi-Wan’s eyebrow went up so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline,

“Because we’ve done an amazing job of that so far,” he said dryly and Anakin sighed,

“Well, at any rate, we are stuck together until this force being decides to pick us up, or talk to us, or whatever it has planned,”

“True. Master Yoda suggested we meditate together to draw the being to us,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin suddenly felt like being just a little mischievous, which judging from the narrowing of Obi-Wan’s eyes, he had projected outwards,

“So…” he began, cunningly, “if just meditating together attracts the being’s attention, and we're not really needed by anyone at the temple right now, surely we could skip the meditating part and instead see just how _distracted_ we can get...as an experiment?”

Anakin watched in pleasure as Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened and pure want shot over the bond, a delicious burn that made the small distance between them seem like kilometres,

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, leaning back from him,

“It was just a suggestion,’ Anakin said, casually,

“No,” Obi-Wan said, clearly trying for firm, but coming across as slightly breathless, reaching across the bond anyway, Anakin happily opening his mind up fully, allowing the weeks now of pent up emotion to wash over Obi-Wan, the heart of it all built on the love he had been carrying for years.

As they simply sat and existed in each other’s space, bodily and mentally, Anakin found the peace he had been looking for all day.

Obi-Wan’s light washed away the jealousy and pain of the last few days, and Anakin wondered at how he could have thought Obi-Wan was interested in Vos – the responding affection from the other man wasn’t new – it had been there from the moment he had sealed their souls together.

Then just as suddenly as it had all the other times, the force around them changed, in a now familiar maelstrom that accompanied the force being.

Both of them withdrew from the bond, coming back to their present and exchanging a glance as Obi-Wan shouldered the pack and got to his feet,

“Hello?” Obi-Wan asked, his gaze sweeping the air as if the being might materialise in front of them.

The force constricted around them, almost painfully, before it relaxed,

_You have considered my offer, children?_

“We have, and we accept the offer,” Obi-Wan answered, as Anakin also put the backpack on, and got to his feet, standing beside Obi-Wan,

_The world will change, time and space will revolve._

_You will be at the heart of it all._

_Do you accept my offer?_

Obi-Wan exchanged a confused glance with Anakin, “maybe you need to say it,” the master suggested in a low voice, and Anakin shrugged,

“We accept the offer,” Anakin repeated.

Then the world tilted, and they were falling.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading and for waiting the extra week for the chapter! Things are super busy at the moment, but I’m still writing, and the next chapter is well underway, so we might get back to our weekly posting schedule, otherwise it’ll be max 2 weeks before an update again.**

**This is a little bit of an in-between chapter, laying the ground work for things to come, and I gotta say the pain-train is not quite ready to let these passengers off just yet. Hope you enjoyed the taste of Obikin – and the fact that they finally TALKED about it all. I know heaps of you were rooting for Quinlan, but Obi-Wan and Anakin are already bonded in this ‘verse, even if they were in denial about it for around 100,000 words hahah. Quinlan’s not going anywhere though!**

**I do enjoy writing cheeky Anakin and Obi-Wan doing his best to resist.**

**Love all your comments and kudos, and love you for reading!**

**< 3 <3 **


	8. Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trials. Plans of rebellion. Hope for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: GRAPHIC depictions of violence and death. Grief/mourning.

**Chapter 8 – Icarus**

**_Icarus is flying too close to the sun,_ **

**_Icarus’ life, it is only just begun,_ **

**_This is how it feels to take a fall,_ **

**_Icarus is flying towards an early grave._ **

**_-_ ** **Icarus, Bastille**

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise as his eyes opened, feeling rested and groggy from a deep sleep, taking in the bright blue sky and far off horizon visible through the bars of the balcony railing. His backpack was lying on the ground near to where he had been standing what felt like only moments ago, and it appeared that he was alone – Anakin was missing.

Looking around him in confusion, Obi-Wan wondered where his former padawan could have gotten to, and why he was sitting like this, legs sprawled out in front of him, his back against the wall, as though he had decided this was a good place for a nap.

Moving slowly, his muscles extremely stiff, Obi-Wan climbed to his feet and nearly fell back over again as his head spun and pain shot down his neck, causing him to reach out and lean against the nearest chair, dizzy.

Something felt extremely wrong and for a moment he was lost, unsure what it could be, before it dawned on him that he couldn’t feel the bond anymore, and a jolt of alarm shot through him. Pushing it aside, he reminded himself that last time Anakin had been taken by the force being the bond had been muted as well, and that Anakin had made it back in once piece, unharmed. 

Focusing back on the situation, Obi-Wan frowned as he considered what might have happened.

Why had the being gone to all the trouble of asking both of them to come along if it were only going to take Anakin, he wondered. Perhaps it had simply changed its mind. And if it had changed its mind, then maybe there had been a power surge, as had happened to Quinlan last time Anakin was taken, but because Obi-Wan was closer, he was knocked out cold.

That was the most logical explanation for things.

And yet he could not dispel the anxiety that was sitting high in his chest.

Obi-Wan pushed off the wall, a feeling of _wrongness_ growing as he did, and walked to the balcony, looking over it into the valley below. A fog hung over the trees, and Obi-Wan’s worry grew at this new discrepancy, given that the sun was shining brightly up here, it was too warm for the fog to form, and it hadn’t been there when he and Anakin had made their way into the temple. There was a smell in the air too, and Obi-Wan frowned as hints of burning wood and ozone reached him.

None of this was making any sense.

Turning around slowly, still a little unsteady on his feet, Obi-Wan stared back into the temple through the open doors, the fifth-floor corridor leading away from the balcony, hidden in shadows. He had never been afraid of the dark before, but there was something about this darkness, something different about the way the light was absorbed by the corridor.

Unhooking his sabre from his waist, Obi-Wan lit it, and picked up the bag lying at his feet, bracing himself for whatever lay ahead as his skin crawled and the air around him shifted strangely.

Carefully, he moved forward, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, as he put one foot in front of the other. His disquiet grew as the light from the sabre dispersed in front of him and caught the fog that hung inside the corridor too, visibility barely more than a couple of centimetres in front of him.

Lowering the blade so that it lit the ground below him, Obi-Wan stepped over the debris and tattered carpet, his footsteps loud in the silent temple. As the stairs finally came into view and Obi-Wan’s pace quickened slightly, a pall of darkness settled over him, the peace that he had always associated with the planet now gone as his anxiety rose.

What had happened?

More importantly it was clear some time had passed – just how long had he been asleep?

As he descended the stairs, Obi-Wan coughed and covered his mouth with the back of his left and as a foul smell assaulted him, starting on the third floor and growing stronger as he descended into the heart of the temple. It smelt like –

He stumbled as his foot connected with something solid lying across the last couple of steps, and managed to regain his footing as he stepped over it and onto the ground floor, spinning around with surprise.

He brought his lightsabre down to ground level to see what he had tripped over, the fog hanging thick around him. What he saw, he didn’t comprehend for a full minute, blinking in shock.

In the pale light of the sabre, Yoda’s blank eyes looked back at him, the grandmaster's body mutilated, missing his right arm, his chest grotesquely carved out, with wounds that were burnt black around the edges by what could only be a lightsabre.

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan whispered, disbelief running through him, but Yoda was silent, his eyes sunken, his cheeks hollow, the vibrant green of his skin faded to a dull grey, fog swirling around them in the currents created by Obi-Wan’s arrival. 

The force grew harder to read as apprehension crawled up his spine.

If Master Yoda, was somehow, unbelievably, dead…

Turning, Obi-Wan hurried for the cruiser, the twins and Anakin on his mind, as dread ate at him. The fog seemed to get impossibly heavier as he moved through the building, every breath growing harder as the smell of smoke and the taste of metal in the air grew more tangible. He finally arrived at the front doors, both of them blown clean off their hinges and lying outside the temple entrance, holes burnt in them.

As though something had forced its way out.

Echoes of screams and death came back to him through the force and Obi-Wan choked down his nausea as he stepped out into the dull light of day, the bright sunlight absorbed and diffused by the dense fog. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he stumbled over another body – one of the initiates, missing his entire lower torso, his young, sightless eyes staring up at the clouded sky.

Moving forward, his breaths coming fast now, Obi-Wan walked past more bodies, littered as though they had fallen one after the other, in a trail that led down the hill. His heart was aching and his mind blank with the shock of what he was looking at, the masters and padawans he had thought were saved, now dead.

As the incline levelled out, the damaged and half-open door of the cruiser came into view, bringing with it more anguish.

Lying in front of the two youngest initiates, Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on Quinlan’s mangled body, his lightsabre still in his open hand, his wounds a mix of sabre and a metal blade, judging by the large bloodstains and the trail that told of how he had dragged himself back to the children, concerned with their lives even as his own ebbed away. 

Shaking, heartbroken, Obi-Wan turned away, as he forced himself into the cruiser, not wanting to go any further, not sure if he _could_ go any further, but needing to know more, desperately clinging to hope that maybe someone lived.

Maybe Anakin lived.

But the thoughts didn’t stop.

Quinlan was _dead_.

A pained sound reached him and with a start Obi-Wan realised it was coming from him, bent over as he was, leaning on his thighs as he struggled to comprehend that Quinlan was gone – violently murdered in their own home. 

Pulling himself into a standing position, the world spun around him, and Obi-Wan used the walls as support as he moved deeper into the cruiser, the isolation without the bond in his mind starting to feel overwhelming.

Blood dotted the floor around him, as though something had moved through, dripping a trail behind it, and the smell of iron was strong in the air, as he dazedly made his way to the bedroom he had left what felt like only minutes ago. His fear grew and he drew blood as he bit his lip, the silence of the ship taunting him with its emptiness.

He didn’t have the courage to call out, only for his voice to come back to him, unanswered.

He turned the corridor into the bedroom wing, following the trail of blood, a weight pressing down on him with every step and entered it, the doors to all the rooms open.

Obi-Wan walked up to his room, stopped dead, his last bubble of hope drowned in the agony that washed over him as he took in the blood covered scene in front of him.

Anakin sitting on the floor, propped upright against the crib with his head tilted to the side, a knife in his limp hand and his lightsabre next to it, a red line cut into the base of his neck, the black of his garments looking thickened and hardened with the blood that had flown from it. 

Luke and Leia were lying in front of him, lifeless and unmoving, blood pooled beneath them, their necks at an unnatural angle as black stains under their skin spoke of how they struggled for their last breaths. 

All three of them bore the same bright blue eyes, and all three had their gazes fixed upwards, at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan moved as though someone else was controlling him, his lightsabre falling with a thud he barely registered as his legs collapsed under him and he dropped to the ground next to Anakin. With a trembling hand, he reached out to touch Anakin’s cheek, the warmth in it drawing a sob out of him.

He was still warm.

Obi-Wan had come too late to do anything, but not so late that the bodies had time to grow cold.

For the second time, Anakin broke his heart.

Another sob left him as his gaze fell upon the children whom he had come to love as his own, and his mind ground to a halt, shattered.

There was nothing left.

Nothing.

_You have failed, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

Obi-Wan didn’t react as a voice slithered around his consciousness, entering it, undefended and weakened as it was.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi…look at me…_

Obi-Wan raised his head.

And then it was in front of him.

A being that appeared humanoid, but couldn’t possibly be, as it carried a force signature unlike anything Obi-Wan had felt before. It was tall and thin, wearing long robes of white silk that hung all the way to the ground, pooling around it’s feet. Obi-Wan knew he should have felt unnerved when the being lowered the hood, revealing red cavities in place of the eyes, and no other features on the blank oval where the face should have been – but he felt nothing.

_This is where the path of light has brought you, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

The being spoke in his head still, and Obi-Wan didn’t protest as the darkness it radiated started to push out his own light.

What was the point?

_Your padawan fell once more._

_He killed once more._

_The blood is on your hands._

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied, dropping his gaze to the tiny bodies he had sworn to protect, the pieces of his broken heart trembling as the organ itself threatened to shut down.

_There are ways to bring them back…of course._

Obi-Wan stared uncomprehendingly at the creature, it hissing voice stretching the words and distorting them as they bounced around his mind. What was it suggesting? 

As the loss and sorrow ate at him, the grieving part of his soul wanted to latch onto the hope those words held, grab onto something, anything that would raise him from this pit of despair, and he almost accepted outright.

Almost.

A part of him, however, the logical part, the part that wasn’t being so heavily assaulted by grief and loss he thought he had been spared from, balked at the idea.

“The dark leads to nothing but more death,” Obi-Wan said robotically, the words almost meaningless to him here, sitting in the blood of the people he loved the most,

_And yet the light did not save them either…_

Whispers continued long after the sentence ended, echoing in his head like noxious ricochets and Obi-Wan was bending under the pressure. How much longer could he walk the path of light, now he was alone?

What if…what if he could bring them back?

Maybe he could fix this.

 _Your love could not save them,_ the voice touched his consciousness again, dragging out his own insecurities and Obi-Wan was weak, so weak.

_Your goodness could not save them._

_Your power can…_

Obi-Wan groaned, unable to think, the smell of death and the force so black around him that it felt like trying to breath with a plastic bag over his head.

He closed his eyes, taking deeper breaths.

What if this thing was right? What if he could change their future? What if he could even change Anakin?

Then he remembered Master Yoda’s body, and Leia’s giggles, and Luke’s excited squeal, and Quinlan’s carefree laugh and Anakin…Anakin’s trust in him – his trust that Obi-Wan always did the right thing. 

With another sob, Obi-Wan found himself getting to his feet and calling the lightsabre to his hand. He backed away from the bodies, unable to look at them for a moment more as his abused mind screeched to a halt, overloaded as it was, and suddenly he was outside the room, walking first, and then running as he reached the door.

Nothing was left for him here.

So Obi-Wan turned away from the temple, the bodies, the jedi – _his family_ and fled.

He ran into the jungle and didn’t think and didn’t feel as questions stabbed at him, hitting him in the back even as he tried to evade them.

Why was he the one who lived?

Why hadn’t Anakin killed him too, and spared him from this existence?

Death would be a kind release, rather than a life lived in this waking hell.

* * *

“OBI-WAN!”

Anakin threw himself against the transparent wall again, trying to get through it as a dark, formless creature hung around Obi-Wan, the bond in his head distorted and his former master writhing on the ground in pain.

He had arrived here in this cavern the same time as Obi-Wan, transported from the balcony and dumped onto the ground unceremoniously, clearly by the force being. Lush green grass lay under his feet, carpeting half the floor area of the cavernous chamber, a lake lapping gently at the shore taking up what appeared to be the other half.

He had gazed in admiration at the beauty of the place, as sparkling reflections of sunlight were thrown off the gently moving surface of the water and onto the smooth and unmarked walls of the cavern. The water’s edge met the land at a small sandy area in a graceful curve that lined up perfectly with the circular opening in the cave’s roof.

When he had called out to Obi-Wan to come and see this, Obi-Wan did not respond, and Anakin had turned to call again. All thoughts about the cavern went flying out of his mind as he had spotted Obi-Wan lying limp on the ground where he had been standing, his backpack lying by his head, as though he had put it down before he fell.

Anakin had made to run over to him, but just as he got halfway across the grassy field, he collided painfully with something solid, falling backwards from the force of the impact. With growing panic he had realised that he was separated from Obi-Wan by a perfectly transparent boundary, reaching out with a hand to find it was as solid as steel, and that Obi-Wan’s cavern was a direct mirror image of his own, with grass, a skylight and it’s own lake.

As he had scrambled to his feet, determined to get through, a creature had appeared over Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan’s body had convulsed, a scream of pain piercing Anakin like a spear before his master went deathly silent, and the bond in Anakin’s head was muted, leaving him breathless and terrified.

He had then noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and spotted possibly the cruellest addition to the cavern – a scrying mirror that showed him what the dark creature was doing to Obi-Wan. 

It seemed to be manipulating Obi-Wan’s very mind as it created a world for him – created another reality - a lie. Anakin watched with growing horror as Obi-Wan woke alone on the balcony, assessed his situation and then made his way into the temple. It had seemed that there was nothing about the vision that made Obi-Wan question it’s veracity, for he seemed to react as he normally would, and as Anakin glanced over to his body, it remained still, meaning that it was Obi-Wan's consciousness that was trapped.

Anakin had initially wondered what the force being could possibly have planned, unsure why it was doing this.

He grew steadily angrier as the nightmare unravelled, and though the bond was muted, he felt the pain Obi-Wan felt, and his heart clenched in sympathy as Obi-Wan struggled past all the bodies, having difficulty himself in understanding what the point of torturing his former master like this was.

All questions were sent spinning out of his mind though, as Anakin had watched Obi-Wan turn the corner in the cruiser, stopping in the bedroom door, and he saw the image of himself and the children.

Anakin had to look away, turning from the scrying mirror, the knife in his hand and the implication of Obi-Wan finding him there too real a fear for him to keep looking at it, though the broken corpses of his children were burned onto his retinas as nausea rose in him.

Obi-Wan had let out a cry in the chamber next door, drawing Anakin’s gaze, and the bond twisted with sorrow. Anakin’s helplessness grew as he stood there, wanting to reach out and comfort Obi-Wan, tell him that everything he was seeing wasn’t real, and get them back to the cruiser, where he could prove that to him.

Anakin wanted to tell him that he would kill himself first, before he ever raised his blade against another jedi again, and would burn this universe to the ground before he hurt the twins.

Pushing out with the force as frustration made his power turn blunt and unrefined, Anakin attempted to break the barrier that separated him from Obi-Wan with sheer brute force, but yelled in wordless rage as his attempt ricocheted off harmlessly and dissipated into the chamber behind him. 

“Anakin, you must calm yourself,”

Anakin spun around at the familiar voice, and froze, as Obi-Wan was standing behind him.

He glanced back over his shoulder, through the divider, to where Obi-Wan was also lying on the grass, the shadow still over him, as the images in the scrying mirror faded away with Obi-Wan’s exit from the cruiser. 

Anakin looked back to the Obi-Wan in front of him, taking in his immaculate hair, the bright white of his robes and the odd blankness in his eyes,

“You’re not Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, wanting to get away from it, wanting to get to his real master,

“No,” it acknowledged, tilting its head,

“Is this your doing?” Anakin growled, moving closer, couched danger telegraphed in his every movement, “why are you wearing Obi-Wan’s face?”

“It is the force’s will,” it replied, tilting it’s head to the side as though it was curious about Anakin’s reactions, “and your bondmate is strong with the light. It pleased me to take his form. In addition, you seem to respond well to it, so I thought it would ease initial negotiations,”

“You misjudged,” Anakin bit out, his teeth bared, “save him” he demanded, pointing back towards Obi-Wan, and the being blinked at him, visibly confused,

“I cannot,” it answered, as though it were obvious, “he will be saved by you,” the creature folded it’s legs beneath it and lowered itself down to sit on the grass, as though this was a friendly meeting in a city garden rather than a targeted and clearly well thought out assault on them both.

Anakin clenched his jaw as his head throbbed, another wave of agony coming through to him over the bond and he turned to watch the scrying mirror again, new images in it. It showed Obi-Wan losing his footing and falling down an embankment, coming to rest at the bottom, and remaining where he fell, his chest rising in sharp breaths, his eyes speaking of a thousand years of torment. 

“Please stop,” Anakin whispered, the tears and sorrow on Obi-Wan’s face too much for him to bear.

The being behind him laughed, the sound wrong in Obi-Wan’s voice, a cruel humour to it,

“I cannot. I am the force. I am light. I am darkness. You have ever struggled with staying true to the light. Obi-Wan Kenobi is your counterpoint, but you rely on him completely. This is not the way, chosen one,”

Anakin turned to face it again, his expression hard, and his eyes dark, “You will not get me to cooperate if you continue to hurt him, please, let me go to him, those visions – you’ve trapped him in a living nightmare!”

“I am balance, Anakin Skywalker,” the being said, no empathy on its stolen face as it looked at him, “I cannot stop what has been started,”

“If you are actually as powerful as you say, then you can,” Anakin stepped forward and the being did not flinch, allowing Anakin to tower over him,

“I would suggest you sit, Anakin Skywalker, so we can talk about your trial,” the being said and Anakin felt the darkness at the edge of his soul urge him on, urge him to use the power it offered, to save Obi-Wan from the force being’s machinations. 

It was the memory of Obi-Wan’s belief in him, the image of Leia in Obi-Wan’s arms and the smile Luke had bestowed upon him only yesterday, that stopped him.

With a shaky breath, Anakin dropped onto the grass as another wave of pain came through from Obi-Wan,

“Talk,” Anakin said, his breaths sharper and shorter than usual, his gaze baleful.

The force being nodded, unaffected by Anakin’s mood, and seemingly, by what was happening in the chamber behind them,

“You must face your fears before you can save this galaxy,” the being said, and Anakin stayed silent, as the being probed the air around him, feeling the presence trying to inspect the bond and pushing it away, not eager to let it anywhere near it,

“You must find the light within yourself when your bond mate is unable to help you. Obi-Wan Kenobi must not fall to the darkness when faced with his greatest losses. These are the trials you both must face and conquer if the destiny written in the universe is to be fulfilled. You are two halves of the whole,”

“So you keep saying,” Anakin replied,

“I have brought you here because this is what was foretold. This is what I have waited many, many long rotations for,” the being seemed to waver as darkness surged behind them, and Anakin closed his eyes as pain shot through his head, and a wounded cry reached him.

It was his name.

Obi-Wan was calling for him.

Anakin tried to use the bond, but it was sluggish, and it didn’t respond to him. He turned to look over his shoulder, but Obi-Wan was now lying still on the ground where he had fallen and the dark figure above him was gone, the chamber empty.

“If you are neither light nor dark, why are you hurting the people you want to help?” Anakin asked, his words clipped, a desperate need to do something, anything to help Obi-Wan leaving him infuriated at his own powerlessness,

“I do not believe you can make this journey if you are not given the correct incentive,” the being replied, Obi-Wan’s voice once Anakin’s most preferred sound now sending fear shooting straight through him, wondering at how long this might go on,

“I will,” Anakin said immediately, sincerely, “if you ease up on him, let me tell him that what he is seeing is not real, I will cooperate,”

“It is not a matter of your willingness, Anakin Skywalker,” the being said, it’s form once again wavering as Obi-Wan groaned behind them, and Anakin almost wished the sound hadn’t reached him, gasping at the intensity of the ache in the bond, “it is matter of deception,” the being continued,

“I’m not lying!” Anakin snapped back, the red edges of darkness at his own soul tempted out of their quiescence by the waves of dark energy that were growing now, stronger than they were before, mixing with the light around him,

“You lie to yourself all the time, even when you do not know it,” the being stated, perfectly calm, perfectly reasonable, as Anakin felt like he was losing what little was left of his own sanity. With a growl, Anakin held his head in his hands, squinting up at the being as his temples throbbed in time with his Obi-Wan’s pain,

“What would you have me do?” he asked, wanting to get his over and done with as soon as possible.

The force being smiled with Obi-Wan’s face, the expression once again wrong, having none of the life and honesty that Obi-Wan’s smile had,

“There is a darkness that grows at the centre of the galaxy. I cannot leave this planet, bound as I was by the Yin’tai, trapped on this rock for centuries. I have watched as the sith grew strong, the republic rose, the jedi maintained peace, then failed and then fell. It was not luck that bought you to me. I will test you Anakin Skywalker,”

“Test me?” Anakin asked derisively, “what is this, some kind of game to you?”

As suddenly as he had been brought here, Anakin was propelled backwards from his seat opposite the being, slamming into the barrier and landing with a gasp of pain, groaning as he attempted to pick himself up.

The being’s form morphed, and Obi-Wan’s face was gone, to be replaced with a face filled with more than a hundred eyes, an empty black hole where a mouth should be and a sickly yellow glow that came off it’s every angle. Looking up through watering eyes, his breaths shallow as he recovered the use of his lungs, the being’s force presence was searing in its brightness,

 _Game?_ it asked, the voice now in his head, the same voice he had heard in previous encounters with the being, 

_This is no game, Anakin Skywalker._

_This is a tipping point._

_You will pass the tests I have for you, and you can return to Obi-Wan Kenobi and bring balance._

_Or you will not, and he will eventually fall to the darkness, hurt as he is, and I will kill him._

Anakin closed his eyes in defeat as he looked away, the threat to Obi-Wan’s life too real for him to ignore.

“I will take your tests,” Anakin said, his voice quiet, and was hauled to his feet by the force itself, stumbling as his legs almost buckled under his own weight.

“Follow me, Anakin Skywalker. You will leave Obi-Wan behind,”

And then the bond was cut off completely.

Anakin reached out to the invisible wall and physically braced himself, the silence and emptiness in his head disorientating, a yawning hole where Obi-Wan’s life force had been.

Looking through the wall in panic, Anakin felt no relief upon seeing Obi-Wan but not feeling him, his former master once more silent, the other force being, or the other _part_ of the force being – the darker part no doubt - hovering nearby again, an arm outstretched and oily blackness coating the force around them with its stench.

 _Come,_ the other part of the being said to him, pulling his attention back, and it drifted away from the barrier, heading into the darkness of the cavern where the lake stretched out in front of them. 

They were going to get through this.

He was going to get Obi-Wan out of here.

And then he was going to rip the force presence apart piece by smug piece.

Tucking his anger away, allowing it to simmer barely restrained, and with the empty hole in his mind scalding him with every beat of his heart, Anakin walked after the being into the darkness of the cave, praying that Obi-Wan would hold onto his light with that same stubborn determination that had brought them this far.

* * *

Breha smiled at the senators and civil servants as she walked through the spacious and luxurious corridors of the senate building, rich carpet beneath her feet, sprawling and wonderful art dotting the walls as she walked past the offices of some most powerful people in the galaxy.

Dressed in a dark red dress that was cinched at the waist, with a skirt that flowed freely and emphasised her limber figure, Breha looked like her usual self, the wife of a well-respected senator once more, the simple clothes she had worn in her meeting with the resistance left at home.

People smiled and waved at her, a few senators stopping to ask how she was doing, and if she was recovered from the terrible ordeal with the pirates. Breha had responded with her politician’s smile fixed firmly onto her face, making it to the top floor where Bail’s office was with relief, few people allowed this high up, where only the most influential senator’s offices were.

The view of Coruscant out the panoramic floor to ceiling windows was stunning as she stepped out of the lift, especially as the evening sun broke through the light rain and created rainbows over the industrial splendour of the capital, hiding the smog and dirt that normally prevailed.

She wished the feeling of dirtiness that accompanied entering the senate building was so easily washed off. No one here seemed to care that an entire order had been wiped off the planet. Everything was business as usual, and as she had flown over the city, the building works on the former jedi temple were already well underway, the bodies of the dead barely laid to rest in a mass grave normally used for traitors and criminals.

Reaching Bail’s office, Breha keyed in the passcode and entered, some of the tension she had been carrying leaving her as she laid eyes on him.

He was sitting at the desk, busily writing with his back to the windows, the light behind him making him look regal in his black senate robes, the desk itself a large and imposing wooden one which they had specially imported from Alderaan,

“Hello love,” she said, softly, and he jerked his head up, startled,

“Breha,” he called, pushing himself out of his chair and immediately coming over to her, reaching out to run large and warm hands down her arms, as though he needed physical confirmation she was there,

“Come home,” she said, with a smile, “I know you’ve got a lot of work, but a wife is entitled to her husband’s presence on command,”

And it was true, but she had never been one to command it before, and she hoped he understood that this was more than a social call. He smiled too, a little puzzled, before his eyes narrowed, as he cocked his head to the side, understanding dawning on his face,

“Oh absolutely, my love,” he said, “let me get my jacket,”

He walked across the office to the cupboard by the door, and Breha followed, waiting at the entrance for him to shrug into the jacket. He straightened the collar as he walked over to join her, and she looped her arm into his, the two of them setting off at a gentle pace, looking to anyone watching like a couple heading home after a day of work,

“How was the senate gathering today?” Breha asked, and noted her husband’s exhaustion by the set of his shoulders and the darkness in his eyes,

“Very productive,” he said aloud, even as she heard the frustration in his voice, well disguised though it was,

“I am glad, it is good to serve a leader who has brought us peace,”

“Indeed,” Bail replied, with an amused side glance to her, nodding to the senior officials that they passed, most of them looking straight through the two of them,

“Yes, when I was in the market today, I ran into some wonderful people – they were also equally excited about the Emperor and the changes he’s brought about,”

“Oh, that’s good, it’s always nice to have the common people’s views,” Bail replied, as they made their way to the lift, 

“And I was speaking to our good friend, the fellow who transports varactyls around, you remember him?”

“Mmm,” Bail replied, an eyebrow raised as they entered the lift, the cryptic conversation necessary given where they were but clearly a little difficult for Bail to keep up with after a long day of verbal manoeuvring and double talk.

Breha trusted that he still had the capacity to understand her but even if he didn’t, was certain that he would play along with her until the end, and continued, “well he said he just would love a trip to the senate,”

“Ah, but security is very tight these days, what with the jedi betrayal,” Bail replied and Breha laughed, not a drop of humour in it as she sent a meaningful glance Bail’s way,

“Yes I told him as much. Still, the poor fellow seemed very disappointed, so I said that I would throw a credit into the old republic’s fountain,”

“That was kind of you, my love,” Bail said, his tone pleasantly vague even as his eyes had a question written in them, 

“Yes, he said that there’s apparently an old legend, about how whomever throws a credit into the fountain is blessed with good luck for the rest of the week – would you accompany me there before we head for home?” Breha asked.

Bail gave her a look that said that he did, indeed, trust her, but that this better be good.

So they rode the lift all the way down to the ground floor, the glass and durasteel bright and intimidating as they descended, the history of the republic etched in loving detail on the golden pillar that ran from top to bottom of the lift shaft. Breha’s resolve stumbled as the beauty and history of the building she was in washed over her – could she really be a part of something that aimed to bring this institution and everything it stood for down to its knees?

As they stepped out onto the marble floor, though, she was reminded that neither beauty nor history meant anything when they served only to hide the ugliness of the power that had come to rule the institution. 

Proceeding deeper into the atrium, following the sound of running water, Breha took note that they were one of the few people here, as the workday had ended, and the rows of eateries closed their doors. This atrium had been one of the few places in the senate where the common people and the senators could mix together before the fall of the jedi, but it was now completely sealed to the public and only accessible by the staff themselves.

Breha remained quiet as she held onto Bail’s arm and the marble beneath their feet changed to white pebbles scattered around marble stepping stones, a garden set in the heart of the senate, overlooked by balconies on every level, a lush green paradise amongst industry. At the very middle, a stunning obsidian statue rose out of the pool of water in sharp contrast to the pale whites and beiges of the building around it. 

Carved from one piece, and standing twice as tall as Bail, the statue depicted the senate floor in intricate detail, the senator’s boxes suspended in mid-air by the force of the water projecting upwards from the pool below which buoyed them up in delicate balance, the centre obsidian piece forming the scroll of the old republic which had been signed by the first member planets thousands of years ago.

Though Breha had seen it many times before, she still felt a spark of wonder as she took it in, marvelling at the subtle warning in the feature itself – that the power held in this building was a fragile one – beautiful and intricate, but easily broken if even one of the pieces were to move out of place.

“Here we are,” Bail said to her, as he gestured towards the fountain. Around them, cleaner droids were emptying bins and wiping tables, pulling chairs inside the restaurants and closing their doors, the few sentient workers paying them no heed.

Reaching into her pocket, Breha pulled out the single credit that Rex had given her, and making a prayer to the old gods, she threw it into the water, where it sunk with a soft splash to join the other credits on the bottom. With a smile she turned to her husband and said,

“Let’s go home,”

Though he had a thousand questions in his eyes, Bail said nothing more and instead led the way out of the senate building, hurrying through the misting rain, and climbing into one of the taxis waiting at the taxi bays.

As she settled in for the long ride home, Breha hoped that the daring plan she and clones had come up with would work.

After they had recorded their message to the jedi, Rex had given her the credit chip and explained to her that they first needed detailed blueprints of the senate building. This was one of the few sites on Coruscant where the plans were not accessible to the public, or to anyone, bar the chancellor.

It had not always been this way, as transparency had been a key cornerstone upon which the republic had been built, and it raised their suspicions that perhaps Palpatine was hiding something in the senate building itself. If they were able to find out _what_ and either destroy it, or use it as evidence against him, they it would strike at the heart of the empire without implicating themselves or anyone that they knew.

So, Breha had taken the credit chip, which Rex assured her was more than what it looked like, and was amazed as she passed straight through the security checkpoints, the imperial guards, their numbers bolstered and their weapons larger than ever before, completely oblivious as they let her through and handed her back the handful of spare change. 

Rex and Cody were both waiting for her and Bail to arrive at home, as she had told Rex and Cody about the secret passageway up into their building, and the clones were more than happy to make use of it, as it was a direct link to the upper city and key political targets. They had gone back there earlier that afternoon, Breha amazed at the portable cloaking technology that the clones had at their disposal, the three of them having slipped through the building and back into the apartment with ease, no need for fiddling with camera feeds.

In the present, Breha sighed, as the evening traffic was heavy and she found herself drifting on a sea of exhaustion as her body, unused to the heavy activity and the rough treatment she had received, sagged against Bail,

“You have a red mark on the back of your neck,” Bail said quietly into her ear and Breha huffed, unsurprised,

“I might have been mistaken for an imperial spy,” she whispered back, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he tensed up,

“They hurt you?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice, but Breha reached out and took his hand in her own, entwining their fingers,

“They did what they had to,” she said, her breath ghosting across his jawline as she examined his beard, tiredly wondering if he would grow it out to cover all his jaw if she asked him to,

“Are you badly injured? Do we need the med-droid?” he asked, bringing his arm up and around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

A part of her protested this coddling, but most of her just relaxed into him, closing her eyes as the speeder hovered in the lane, traffic at a standstill,

“No,” she said, “I will be fine tomorrow,”

“I don’t think fine cuts it,” Bail grumbled, but said no more as he also relaxed, satisfied that she wasn’t lying, and trusting that she would tell him if she needed help.

Finally, the speeder started moving again and they inched closer to home. The sun was fully gone by the time their apartment complex came into view, the speeder rising through the air to drop them off at their balcony, Bail paying the man while Breha slipped out.

The apartment was dark, but lit up with a voice command, silken blue curtains dropping over the large glass panels, the huge living room a welcome sight after a day of adventuring around the city. 

Making her way into the spare bedroom where the glass had opacified and the curtains, a deep red in here, had dropped down, Breha smiled as she took in the sight in front of her. Sitting by the side of the bed, Rex and Cody had a menagerie of plans, datapads, holograms and computer stations set out, in front of them, clearly having been very busy since she had left them that afternoon,

“Ma’am,” Cody said, nodding to her as she walked in, sighing as he corrected himself, “Breha, I mean,”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Breha chuckled and Rex threw Cody a look she couldn’t interpret as he glanced up from his console,

“Well done, the chip is exactly where we want it to be,” he said.

Breha dropped down to sit on the bed as from the lounge room she heard Bail order the droids around, her husband’s routine after work set in stone and occurring almost like clockwork. 

“Is Senator Organa here?” Cody asked and Breha nodded, watching with interest as Cody brought up a video feed of the senate’s atrium, dark and silent now,

“So, you still haven’t told me what the credit chip is actually supposed to do,” Breha prompted as the clones’ attention fell back on their work and Rex looked back up, a smile tilting the corner of his mouth on the unburnt side of his face, 

“It’s a scanner,” he said, and with a button, the video feed cut to the fountain, and out of the water rose the credit chip, transforming in front of them, a propeller coming out one end, little arms coming out the other,

“Very clever,” Breha said with admiration and Rex grinned at her, a hint of mania about it that Breha would have been scared of, before all of this happened, but now appreciated for the spark of rebellion it lit within her,

“Yes it is,” he said cheekily, Cody nudging him from the other side, unamused by his brother’s lack of modesty,

“It was the work of a friend of ours,” Cody said in explanation as Rex directed the little scanner, and it got to work, flying low to the ground as it began it’s programmed task,

“A friend?”

“Yes, he came to us a week ago. Short little guy, blue hair, green eyes, and a mouth on him that would send the pirates running,” Cody said, a note of irritation in his voice, “I would have thought he were demented if he didn’t come to us with all his little gadgets, saying that he hated the colour of palpatine’s aura, and that he wanted him gone as emperor,”

“The colour of his aura?” Breha asked derisively and Rex snorted, taking his eyes off the video feed for a moment to meet her gaze,

“Exactly, a nut job,” he agreed,

“But then we got to work actually trying to figure out how his devices work,” Cody cut in, changing the camera feed as the droid began to move in larger circles, the hologram under the camera feed creating a three dimensional map of the atrium, and, Breha was amazed to see, the multitude of floors underneath it,

“And turns out they’re actually amazing,” Rex said, a note of regret in his voice, “I wish he had just opened with that, then I wouldn’t have called him a crazy old coot and got hit in the chest with one of his mini rockets,”

Cody chortled, and Rex sent a glare his way, but judging by the amusement that lingered around Cody’s eyes, it did little to chastise him for laughing at Rex’s pain,

“Anyway, the metal he uses isn’t track-able or traceable, so even if they were to find this droid, and investigate everyone who went near the fountain, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the origin,” Cody finished with a smirk,

“Is he the one who made the cloaking devices?” she asked, indicating the bracelets the two of them were wearing, having worn a similar one herself this afternoon when they made their way back, and Cody nodded,

“Yes, amazingly,” he said.

Breha was distracted by movement at the door as Bail came through, changed out of his senate robes and into his house robes, still looking at stately as he always did,

“Clone commanders?” he asked, looking at his wife and Breha laughed, realising she had forgot to mention that, 

“Commanders Rex and Cody, currently of the Yellow Varactyls, and more importantly, our friends in this little rebellion,” she said,

“Yes, we were formerly of the grand army of the republic, and were General Kenobi’s and General Skywalker’s seconds,” Cody said, as he stood up and reached out to shake Bail’s hand,

“Forgive me, senator, but I can’t move right now,” Rex said, and Bail raised a hand in understanding. He surveyed the scene and then looked over to Breha with pride,

“Getting the senate building’s plans,” he said approvingly, “a very sensible move,”

Breha grinned at him before she turned her gaze back to the clones, who remained focused on their task, the drone in the atrium circling ever wider, the hologram of the senate building adding floors above the atrium as the drone shifted its focus and hovered higher in the air.

The droids came in to inform them that dinner was ready, and Bail invited Cody and Rex to come and sit with the, but both shook their head, saying that they needed to stay and observe the scanner, so Breha instructed the droids to bring them food in the bedroom instead, and followed Bail out to the dining table.

The two of them shared a relaxed dinner, Bail telling Breha in detail about the new senate, the strange allowances that Palpatine had given to them, and the bills that some of the senators had submitted for consideration. Palpatine had apparently acted no different to the benevolent chancellor he had always been, and it sat uneasy in Breha’s mind, because it meant that Palpatine was still playing the long game and that whatever he had planned was even more sinister than the attack on the jedi was planned. Bail shared her worries as well, but they both accepted they were doing all they could.

The evening transitioned into night proper, and Breha finished her post dinner tea on the balcony, leaning over it and looking at the city below, the traffic and life never ending, the dotted lights and diffusion through the smoke calming to her senses, despite how different things had been on Alderaan.

Footsteps behind her made her turn and she smiled at Rex, who nodded in return, as he joined her, coming to lean his right arm against the railing, and looking out at the city with her,

“How is it going?” she asked, examining the dark shadows on his face, only the whites of his eyes really visible in the dim light falling out from the living room, and the low lighting of the floor spotlights,

“Very well, actually,” Rex replied, sighing, “but I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you, Breha,” he said, and Breha shrugged and shook her head,

“For what? I haven’t done anything yet,”

“You listened to us,” Rex responded immediately, and Breha glanced over to him to see he was facing her, gratitude written on the good part of his face, his scars thrown into sharp relief,

“You had something interesting to say,” she replied with a smile and Rex returned it, seeming to relax a little bit more, as though he had accepted that she was sincere in her offer of friendship, and that was that. He looked back at her,

“We got the whole building blueprint,” he said and Breha raised her eyebrows,

"That was very quick,” she replied, taking another sip of the tea, the cup keeping it at precisely the temperature she preferred, warming her hands as the wind got slightly cooler, though the weather on Coruscant generally trended towards the warmer temperatures,

“It really is an amazing device,” Rex responded, “do you wanna come in and see?”

Breha nodded and turned away from the city, following him back into the apartment and across the living room to the spare bedroom. Cody was sitting on the bed this time, all the computers still left on the floor, while in front of him the complete three-dimensional plan of the senate building shimmered, rotating as the commander examined it, 

“Wow,” Breha said, looking at the sheer amount of detail the scanner had picked up, from the little notches in the walls to the placement of furniture and the senate floor with all it’s boxes stacked up and stored away for the evening.

“Indeed,” Bail’s voice said from behind her,

“It is what we expected, very standard designs here,” Cody said as Rex went to sit on the bed next to him,

“But not down here,” the other commander cut in, taking the datapad from Cody’s hand and zooming in on the very bottom floor, under which there was another room. Breha sat down on the storage box that sat at the foot of the bed, the hologram in front of her, moving as Rex zoomed in further.

The room was large, at least half the size of the senate, but as Breha analysed the image, she could see no obvious way to actually get into the room, the central lift shaft stopping before it, and the actual design of the room maze like, walls and pits and strange faux ceilings suggesting that it would be near to impossible to wander through it without a map,

“Well look at that,” Bail exclaimed in wonder, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look,

“I’ll bet my remaining arm that this is Palpatine’s room,” Rex said, Breha glancing up to him,

“I’m not crazy enough to take that bet,’ Cody replied, looking between Breha and Bail, “but I do think we have to get in there, and see what the monster is hiding down here,”

“Yes, absolutely,” Bail agreed, but he didn’t look pleased as he added, “how? If it is Palpatine’s little room, and the lift doesn’t actually go there, how are we supposed to get in?”

“Through here,” Cody said, spinning the map, and revealing a shaft that went all the way from the top of the senate to the bottom, connecting to a corridor that then led to the back of the bunker that Bail and Breha had not been able to see from their angle,

“Unless I’m mistaken, that lift or whatever it is comes right out of the chancellor’s office,” Breha said, with a frown,

“Exactly,” Cody replied, “that’s where your husband comes in. Bail, you can get in there, can’t you?”

“I can, but I don’t think our new leader is going to be showing me into his lair just like that,” Bail snarked,

“No he isn’t,” Rex agreed, picking up another datapad and handing it to Bail and Breha, “which is why we have to wait for a time when we know he’s not going to be there,”

Breha skimmed over the information on the datapad, which showed pictures of Keesen stadium, the largest arena on Coruscant, “What’s this got to do with anything?” she asked, confused, 

“The stadium is where we know the Emperor is going to be two days from now,” Cody replied, “the biggest fight in the galaxy is going to take place then, and there’s no way he would miss it, given that it’s partially him who organised it,”

“The one between Huly and Taruiki, the wrestlers?” Bail asked and Breha sent him a surprised glance, her husband never being one for the blood sports. He shrugged,

“It’s hard to miss,” he said in explanation, “everyone’s talking about it, and the senators have a box at Keesen so many of my colleagues will be going,”

“Huh,” Breha said,

“And you’ll have to go too,” Cody stated, “we need you to be there, Breha, and we need you, Bail, to use that opportunity to sneak into the emperor’s office,”

“How do you know Palpatine won’t be just stay in his office?” Breha asked,

“The emperor will be opening the battle with a speech, because he publicised this sporting event between a separatist planet and a republic planet representative as the ultimate mark of the peace he brought to the galaxy,”

“Yes, actually, I do remember Senator Ohsana saying something about this, it’s part of the new ‘peace for all’ campaign he’s running,” Bail cut in,

“Exactly. So he’ll be in the box with you, Breha,” Cody said, “and Bail, you’ll need to enter his office, break into the entrance to his lair and collect whatever evidence you can,”

“Oh, is that all?” Bail asked wryly and Breha chuckled,

“I mean is it that different to saving the last of the jedi while they were under attack, taking them to a safe planet and then somehow finding your way back into the senate with a plan to destroy it’s new leader?” Breha asked and Bail chuckled, taking the stealth cloak bracelet that Cody held out to him, 

“We have kept the senate and key political targets under surveillance these last weeks,” Rex began, drawing their attention back to him, “at the same time that you enter the senate, we will attack twelve non-civilian targets throughout the city, thereby triggering the Emperor’s safety protocol, wherein the Emperor will be taken off the planet,” Rex said, “it is a new protocol, and it is unlikely that he will return to the senate for around an hour, as the local police investigate and declare that the senate is safe,”

“What do you want me to do?” Breha asked,

“Speak to the emperor, make your presence known,” Rex said, and Breha felt revulsion at the very thought of having to speak to that man for an extended time,

“Not a savoury thought,” she muttered,

“No, but if you are in the box, awaiting your husband, you will have an alibi, and Bail will be cloaked from your apartment to the senate, so there is little chance of you two being implicated,” Cody explained and Breha nodded, seeing the wisdom in his plan, trusting that with their years of battle experience, tactical ability and their more current knowledge of how things were going on Coruscant, that this plan would work.

Once they had explained how the cloaking device worked to Bail, and expounded upon the finer details of their plan, the two of them turned on their own personal cloaking devices and left the apartment, with plans to meet with Breha on the morning of the fight, down at their base in the lower city.

Tired and sore, Breha went through her nightly rituals of cleaning and showering, and dropped into the bed, awaiting Bail as her mind slowed down, and her eyelids grew heavy with sleep.

They were small outfit, and their plans were in their infancy, but as Bail joined her in the bed and pulled her closer, his heartbeat steady against her back, she knew they had done the right thing.

They were doing this for the remnants of the republic.

They were doing this for their friends.

* * *

Obi-Wan groaned as he dropped to the ground at the foot of a large tree, exhausted as his muscles burned and his legs shook from the strain.

He had been running for so long that the fog had faded far behind him as he pushed his way deeper into the forest, and the sun filtering through the branches changed from a bright morning glow to a low afternoon haze. 

Dizzy, Obi-Wan let his eyes fall closed as his head hit the trunk with a thud, his deep breaths loud in the quiet and still air, cool air rising up off the damp undergrowth, the sound of water running somewhere nearby. He had no idea where he was currently, and he had long lost his sense of direction. All he knew is that he had to get away from that temple and the horrors that waited for him there.

The extended energy he had just spent did nothing to stop the nausea that sat low in his gut, random memories representing themselves to his tormented mind, even as he tried to bury them – each with stark new details he had been too shocked to notice at the time, piercing him like blaster shots -

Leia’s hand, twisted and broken, lying next to Luke’s cheek, her brother seemingly reaching back towards her with his own.

Quinlan’s body draped over the initiates, his last act a desperate one, a protective one.

Cin and Kom and Zobon, all slain next to the padawans and initiates they had died to protect, futile though their efforts had been.

A sob tore its way out of Obi-Wan’s chest as the enormity of his loss hit him, the distance doing nothing to alleviate the crushing weight of it,

“Anakin,” he gasped, half a plea, half a curse, unable to comprehend how his former padawan could have done such a thing, but the sabre in his hand – the sabre he wasn’t supposed to have – was damning evidence.

And what was Obi-Wan supposed to do now?

Obi-Wan heard another sob leave him, as stones and broken sticks pressed into his thighs, and the rough bark stabbed him through the thin robes he wore.

He looked down at the sabre hooked onto his belt, the metal glinting up at him, reminding him of the shimmer of Anakin’s sabre, dimmed by the blood that covered the once pristine silver handle.

_It doesn’t have to be like this._

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, no fear left in him and completely unsurprised at the voice’s presence, darkness hanging thick in the air, as it had done before, “you’re a dark-sider,” Obi-Wan said, his words stiff and his tongue unresponsive to him,

 _I am the force_ , _dark and light_ , it replied, _I see you pain, Obi-Wan Kenobi. It does not have to be this way._

There was a promise in the words, and as it washed over him, Obi-Wan felt the intensity of his suffering dim slightly, his mind whirring.

As he sat there, Obi-Wan truly didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself now. There was no one and nothing left for him on this planet. He could leave the planet, he supposed, but then what? Should he join Breha and Bail on Coruscant? He wouldn’t get past the Coruscant docks before Palpatine tracked him down, locked him up and then no doubt tortured him until his sad life came to its inevitable end. 

Yet this existence was torture in itself, Obi-Wan thought, wondering at the desolation in his spirit, the apathy he felt.

If Palpatine took him, at least it would be a guaranteed death. The presence seemed to sense his train of thought because it moved and then it spoke again.

_You can bring them back._

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the words, but the hope it implanted in him was powerful, and before he could stop himself, he asked,

“How?”

There was silence, and then suddenly the force coalesced in front of him, as though his very question spurred it onwards,

_There is a power at the heart of this planet. There is a font into which you can reach. Bring them back. Save them all…_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and reached out with his own force signature, following the power around him and suddenly he was looking at the site the force being was talking of – a bright blue pool nestled somewhere deep underground, throbbing with the life force of the planet, glowing with it’s blue light and sending shivers through him.

But this was…old. Ancient, in fact, and something about the force around it was corrupted.

Obi-Wan withdrew from the images reluctantly, his logical mind reasserting itself as the freshness of the forest came back to him, and the warmth from the sun brought him back to his present. He could not go down that path.

That way lay madness.

That way lay the path that Anakin had chosen and Obi-Wan felt the knife in his chest twist even deeper, bringing his knees up to his chest as the pain that he had momentarily distracted himself from returned full force.

His children were dead. _Their_ children were dead and gone. Nothing in this world could bring them back as whole and pure as they had been.

He brought his arms up to rest on his knees, his breath jagged with the turmoil raging inside his soul.

The dark side brings pain.

The dark side took _his_ Anakin.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply and let it out again.

He would not be swayed. Not yet.

But the seed was planted now, and it remained within his mind.

Maybe…he could bring them back.

* * *

Quinlan levitated the random spare parts that had been lying around the cockpit above his head in what was frankly gross misuse of the force, leaning back in the pilot’s chair and not particularly concerned by his terrible role modelling because the padawans were meditating in the rec room and his heart was still hurting.

It was hard to ignore the pain of rejection.

Even though he didn’t blame Obi-Wan at all – in fact he loved him more now than what he had previously – and even though he felt so much better, so much more himself now that he had gotten it off his chest and Obi-Wan knew how he felt – even with all that, he still had a pain just behind his sternum that just simply refused to be meditated away.

 _Heal all wounds, time will._ Quinlan thought, in Yoda’s voice, but the words didn’t have much effect, probably because the grandmaster would have said something far wiser and more realistic than the meaningless platitude.

Quinlan sighed again, letting the debris drop to the metal floor with small ticks and clicks. Looking straight ahead at the sparkling blue of hyperspace, he wondered what Obi-Wan was doing now.

Why _had_ he told his old friend about Skywalker’s attraction to him? That was surely a foolish move on his part – did he not want Obi-Wan to choose him? And the way Obi-Wan’s eyes had lit up when he suggested that Skywalker returned his feelings - that had hurt too.

But Quinlan couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

He wanted Obi-Wan’s happiness. If only that didn’t also mean his own misery.

He was about to sigh for the third time in as many minutes, really letting himself wallow in the pity party he was throwing for himself, when light footsteps sounded behind him.

Turning in the chair, Quinlan watched the entrance, unsurprised by who walked through,

“Hautie,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice at the sheepish look on her face, clearly at odds with herself for having defied his instruction to study and meditate on the task that they were going to face on Ilum.

The little girl put her hands behind her back, and puffed out her chest, as though she would not be intimidated by the chastisement he should be giving her for leaving the meditation early. Reminded of his old padawan, Aayla, Quinlan had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent a smile breaking through, lest he offend the little one and her clearly very serious thoughts,

“Master Vos,” she said, bowing slightly, “I have a question, and the force was not able to answer,” her voice was light and gentle, and Quinlan found himself wanting nothing more than to protect her, and take her away from the danger that awaited them, the fate that they had been inexorably drawn into,

“Very well, ask it young one,” he said, maintaining his composure,

“I…I wonder if I am worthy to be a jedi, Master Vos,” she said, her words and demeanour calm, but a flash of insecurity in her eyes betraying her real fear.

Indicating the seat next to him, Quinlan said, “come up here and let’s talk,”

The little one did so, lifting herself onto the co-pilots chair with some difficulty, but settling with grace as soon as she managed to turn around, her small feet dangling off the edge,

“That is a deep question to be pondering so early into your training,” Quinlan said, watching as some embarrassment flashed across her face, but approving as she continued maintaining eye contact with him, clearly committed to getting her answer,

“I am the youngest here,” she said, looking down at her lap, “Master Windu said he would train me, when I was ready, but I never went through the trials, I was never made a real padawan,” she looked back up, and this time couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes, “what if I fail the gathering?” she asked, her voice a whisper,

Quinlan tilted his head to the side, all amusement washed away, as he took in her blonde plait, curved around her small but defiantly squared shoulders, her robes pressed and folded to perfection, the force around her filling with her anxiety,

“You have survived the fall of the jedi order, young one,” he said, leaning forward in his seat, his braids falling over his shoulder as his elbows came to rest on his knees. Hautie stared back at him, wide-eyed, “you stayed calm, when chaos was all around you. You have helped us rebuild on Razonai, and you have showed maturity and wisdom in coming to me,”

He reached out to pat her on the shoulder, his hand almost comically huge in comparison to her lithe frame, but his touch seeming to calm the force that trembled around them,

“All the others had begun their trails, or were close to doing so,” she countered,

“And they have passed,” Quinlan said, “you have all showed incredible resilience,” he straightened, in his seat to fix her with a stern look, “you are worthy, Hautie, you are a padawan,”

She smiled then, dimples appearing on both cheeks, her legs swinging happily as Quinlan allayed her fears.

He sat back and glanced over to the controls, his eyes seeking out the navcomp. According to the green trajectory lines and red predictions, they were around half an hour away from Ilum. He should probably go and prepare the padawans for emergency evacuation on the chance there was a nasty surprise waiting for them when they dropped out of hyperspace,

“Will you be my master?”

The question broke his train of thought and Quinlan turned his head back to look at Hautie, who was watching him with a tentative smile, looking like she was expecting to be rejected at any minute. Quinlan was surprised – he had not considered taking on another padawan since Aayla, given how dangerous his work had been these last few years, and how far from the light his path had taken him.

He had heard Windu talk of Hautie, of course, the girl had greatly excelled despite her young age, and was on the fast track to become his padawan.

He considered also whether he was ready for another responsibility, on top of everything else that was going on. It was one thing to shepherd the padawans and guide them on the path of light in the group. It was a whole other thing to take one on as your own.

Hautie seemed to deflate in the chair and Quinlan realised he had been silent for a while,

“Sorry, master, I did not mean to be impertinent,” she said, tripping over the larger words, pushing herself forwards and moving to slide off the chair,

“I admire your courage,” Quinlan said, and Hautie stopped mid movement, sitting on the edge of her seat,

“You do?” she asked,

“You are a brave youngling. You would make an excellent padawan. I hope that you will gain valuable lessons from me, and that I will be a good master to you,” he said.

She seemed frozen for a minute, and then suddenly Quinlan had an armful of padawan as she launched herself across to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

Laughing at the sudden attack, Quinlan stood so that he could return the hug properly and set her on the ground, trying not to find the fact that she only came up to his hip when standing adorable and failing miserably,

“Alright, Hautie, I have accepted you, but you must not get too excited, it is up to the council to allow me to formally take you on as my apprentice,” Quinlan said, trying to be reasonable, but the girl simply grinned at him,

“I meditated!” she said excitedly, all her composure lost to her age and the excitement that came from having a good thing happen. Quinlan realised with a touch of sadness it had been a long time since anyone he knew had simply let themselves enjoy something, that ability seemingly one which was reserved for the children,

“I’m sure you did,” he replied with a chuckle,

“No I did!” she said, a note of indignance entering her voice, “and I asked the force for a good master, and a vision came to me of you giving me lessons!” her words tumbled out in a rush and Quinlan felt a spark of affection in his chest,

“Very good, Hautie,” he said, placing a hand on her back, “now get back to the others and try to resume your meditation on the gathering and what features of the crystal that you are looking for. We are close now, and you’ll need to be on your guard,”

“Yes master!” she said, before she bounded out, energetic and full of life, and as the room dimmed with the absence of her bright, light, signature, Quinlan looked back out at the glow of hyperspace and re-examined the encounter, even as a part of his mind ran through the landing curve he was going to take and what he would need to focus on first when they finally landed on IIlum.

A padawan.

It wasn’t what he had bargained for, certainly not with everything that had changed since Coruscant.

But as his chest twinged again, Obi-Wan’s choice still a painful one for him, he nodded to himself.

Perhaps a padawan to train, teach and focus on was exactly what he needed to soothe the ache.

 _Help yourself you must,_ he thought to himself, once again in Yoda’s voice.

This was no more helpful than the last time, but he still smiled as he turned around to go and brief the padawans. Perhaps his pain didn’t have to be a bad thing. Perhaps he would be able to take it, and turn it to focus on the future of their order.

 _Help yourself indeed, Quinlan_ he thought as he walked to the back of the ship, _help yourself, indeed._

* * *

Anakin hurled another boulder at the scrying mirror as he watched Obi-Wan muttering to himself, curled up under a tree, the chunk of rock disintegrating before it came into contact with the delicate silver frame and Anakin sighed, unsurprised by the lack of breakage, but still wishing he didn’t have to see Obi-Wan’s suffering without being able to intervene.

Three days this had gone on.

Three days he had endured the force being’s trials, and at the end of every single one, he had come back here to either fall asleep gazing at Obi-Wan’s limp body lying on the other side of the barrier, so close and yet so impossibly far away, or he remained awake, watching the images on the scrying mirror as Obi-Wan struggled through the new and harsh reality that he faced alone. 

In a merciful act of the force, the mental torture and the nightmare loop seemed to place a great strain on his master’s mind and though Anakin had spent every day awake and alert, Obi-Wan spent the majority of the day unconscious, waking only in the evenings these last two days, for short periods where the farcical drama continued as the force being thrust him back into the horror reality it had created for him, and Anakin watched as his master spent much of his time running, stumbling and struggling, stopping only when he couldn’t keep going.

The worst part of it all was that Anakin was starting to actually understand what the force being had intended to achieve all along.

This last week on Razonai with the jedi, he had found a greater balance and sense of peace in the force – but with Obi-Wan’s light so close, he had come to depend on it. Now, forcefully separated, knowing that if he didn’t apply himself Obi-Wan suffered for longer than he needed to, Anakin had no choice but to participate in whatever psychopathic and inhumane trials the force being had planned and in the process, discovered new things about himself.

The first day had been the hardest. He had wanted to rage and scream and rip and tear, the darkness that had embedded itself in him rising once more, but the being had weathered his mood and every attempt at escape or attack that he had made with resignation, and eventually Anakin had burnt out, his anger spent.

They had begun mental exercises in the form of reality bending visions similar to what was being projected at Obi-Wan – with the major difference being that Anakin retained an understanding that it was only a vision, and he was released from it rather quickly, usually soon after he had made a choice. It took Anakin the better part of that first day to realise that the force being was wiping selective details from his memory, so that every time they started a new simulation – new situations thrown at him, new temptations of the dark side, new promises, new threats – he responded to them as though seeing them for the first time.

Anakin had endured this for most of that first day, so long, in fact, that stars had appeared in the sky visible through the cavern’s roof by the time Anakin’s exhausted mind demanded a break and he had backed away, begging release.

The being had acquiesced and left him alone, retreating from Anakin’s gilded cage, food and water from the backpack that Obi-Wan had packed for them left out for him, the fallen jedi stuffing what he could into his mouth even as he plopped himself down directly in front of the screen, to watch Obi-Wan. Unable to do more than reassure himself that Obi-Wan was still breathing, he had laid down on the soft grass and then passed out himself from sheer exhaustion.

Then something truly remarkable happened on the second day.

Whenever the toxic darkness in his soul had risen to meet external sources of darkness, it became easier and easier to turn away from it, much easier than it had ever been before. Anakin had begun to remember the mental barricades he used to avoid the dark side and it’s many lures, and more than that, instead of reaching out to Obi-Wan’s signature and shielding himself from the darkness with Obi-Wan’s light, he had to battle the darkness himself. Obi-Wan was still the fuel for his determination, but Anakin cloaked himself not in Obi-Wan’s goodness, but his own light, the light that Qui-Gon had seen in him, all those years ago on Tatooine, before the war and his own choices had veiled it and he had let the cancerous darkness take route.

Anakin’s hatred for the force being also faded, reason taking it’s place.

There was nothing the being could say that would justify what it was doing to Obi-Wan, and Anakin would have justice. But it was, in fact, _justice_ that he sought now. Not vengeance. It was what Obi-Wan would have done, and Anakin could finally see that the jedi way was not sanctimonious propaganda that was sprouted meaninglessly – the jedi way was making the choice that brought the greatest balance to the world around them.

Pure idealism of pacifism was not the way. Total engagement in every conflict was not the way. 

Peace should have been their primary goal from the start, and looking back at his own actions, he could see now that he had been an instrument of war. He had been an instrument of chaos.

After those first two days trapped in the cavern, it was as if every mental test, every new horrific image, every attachment that the being took and turned against him created not anger and resentment, but instead a resilience that grounded him in a way nothing had before.

The more he learnt about his own reactions, the more the force being threw him into his worst memories, his worst days – the slaughter of the Tuskens on Tatooine, the dreams of Padmé’s death, Obi-Wan’s Rako Hardeen betrayal, Ahsoka’s trial and decision to leave the order – and made him examine _why_ he had fallen to the dark side in the first place – his pride, his self-absorption, and yes, his selfish love of Padmé –Anakin felt himself growing stronger.

The third day had come quickly, and Obi-Wan had remained quiet, lying where he had been this whole time, Anakin growing more worried at the amount of time he had spent with no food and water. That morning, he had begged the force being to let him go to his former master, but it was unmoved by his pleas, and insisted they continue, for it was impressed at the speed of his learning, but not done with him.

Accepting that he was powerless, at least in his situation, Anakin followed, determined to learn even faster if it meant Obi-Wan would be freed.

That day had been spent in a mix of mental gymnastics, meditation techniques and a new lightsabre form, one that Anakin had never seen used before. It was reminiscent of the Vapaad form that Master Windu had perfected, but was far more aggressive, and Anakin found he took to it even easier than the Ataru that he had preferred all his life.

Now, feeling older and more exhausted than before, Anakin gave his anger to the force as he sunk to the ground in what was becoming his regular spot, watching the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s chest as though it was the most important thing in the universe. To him, it was.

Three days of a mental onslaught and Anakin could now confidently say he had a true grip on the light side and that the darkness held little appeal, the chains that had held him down broken and thrown aside.

However, he still could not control the deep urge within him to be next to Obi-Wan again. He knew that even if the bond never came back to them that this need within him would not fade, not with time, not with distance, and almost probably not with death, if there was an afterlife for him after all that he had done.

_You truly love him._

Anakin started as the force presence’s voice filtered back into his mind, breaking the pattern of the previous nights, where it had left him alone after their lessons were done, absent until the first rays of sun filtered down into the cave. He considered not answering at all but reminded himself that it would take the answer out of his head whether he liked it or not, and figured he might as well have some control over this situation,

“Yes,” he replied shortly. There was nothing from the being for a beat, then it said,

_It is something I did not expect._

Anakin’s surprise rang in the force around them as he absorbed the words – the being admitting to a fallacy? After days of superior silence, a superior emotionless response to all his outbursts, pleas, and pain, and it’s casual torture of Obi-Wan, it seemed that something had finally gotten to it,

“Why, did you think I was lying again?” Anakin asked, his tone bitter. The force around him moved, gently though, as though he had dipped his hand into the water of the lake behind him, causing new eddies and ripples to flow,

_No, I did not think humans were capable of such love. You are a short-lived species. You are a selfish species._

Anakin remained silent. The being was not wrong. Given the chance, humans are the ones who commit atrocities that other sentient species would abhor. Humans are one of the few in the galaxy who go out of their way to enslave their own people.

_You have done well, Anakin Skywalker._

Anakin raised an eyebrow, “are you still the same creature that brought us here?” he asked sardonically. The force around them changed and suddenly a new current of air hit Anakin’s face – coming from in front of him!

His heart stuttering in hope, Anakin raised a hand, and met no resistance in front of him. He waited for his hand to become trapped, or for the wall to come back up, or for the being to accuse him of trying to escape and punish Obi-Wan further.

Instead the presence retreated, leaving Anakin alone, and then – the bond returned.

Pain and loss and grief smashed into him like a tidal wave as Anakin struggled to his feet, staggered by the sudden brilliance of the bond, Obi-Wan’s life signature different now, dimmed as though by a cloud, but still one hundred percent his master.

Anakin was so grateful that the being hadn’t destroyed it – three days without it had felt like an eternity. But his celebration was short lived as the reality of Obi-Wan’s situation came to him - Obi-Wan was hurting.

A groan reached him then and with a jolt he realised that the being must have released Obi-Wan from it’s terrible hold. Rushing forward as he adjusted to the power surge and the onslaught of emotions from Obi-Wan, Anakin finally reaching his side after days of wishing to be nearer,

“Obi-Wan,” he breathed, laying a hand on the older man’s cheek, rough now with days of beard growth, his hair a tangled mess. The older man turned his head into Anakin’s warmth touch, as his eyes blinked open. Anakin smiled down at him, “you’re back,” he said. Confusion tinged Obi-Wan’s eyes,

“Anakin?” he mumbled, and the younger man’s smile grew,

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice not strong at all, thick with emotion. Obi-Wan glanced around himself, as though he was taking in his surroundings for the first time,

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse,

“In a cave, the force being took us and trapped you in a fake world, a nightmare reality,” Anakin said, waiting for some light of understanding in his former master’s eyes. Instead Obi-Wan seemed to grow more confused,

“But…” he blinked dazedly, trying to push himself up off the ground, “Master Plo Kloon is waiting for us,” he said, and Anakin’s stomach dropped somewhere around to where he knees were,

“What do you remember?” Anakin asked his tone sharper than it meant to be, his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder meeting less resistance as his former master grew weaker, his head falling back against the soft grass, his eyes growing less focused,

“The council sent us to reinforce…Dooku is attacking the mines…”

Anakin felt a moment of panic – did Obi-Wan remember nothing?

 _Calm yourself Skywaker,_ the force presence touched his mind again, though it felt weaker than usual, as though it were far away, as Obi-Wan didn’t react and the force around them stayed the same,

 _What have you done to him?_ Anakin asked, unable to keep the vicious threat out of his words, fear that Obi-Wan had forgotten everything gripping him – the children, their conversations – the changes in their relationship,

_It is an effect of the mind manipulations. He will be back to himself soon._

And the presence left again, as Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted closed. Taking in the parched lips and dry skin, Anakin realised he might not have very much time left before the lack of food and water actually killed Obi-Wan, and force pulled the second backpack to him, opening it hurriedly and pulling out a bottle of water,

“Just a quick drink, master,” he said gently, bring the bottle to Obi-Wan’s lips and sliding his other hand under Obi-Wan’s head, the hair soft under his touch as he levered the older man’s head up. Obi-Wan stared at him sleepily, but drank as the water touched his lips, Anakin making sure to control the flow. 

Turning his head away as he had his fill, some water cascaded over Obi-Wan’s lips and Anakin frowned, taking the bottle away from him,

“Anakin, you will have to go, I…do not feel well,” Obi-Wan said, a hand coming up to his chest to rub the skin over his heart, Anakin’s own chest tightening in fear as he wondered what part of the clone wars Obi-Wan’s mind had taken him to,

“Yes, I will go,” Anakin replied, deciding it would be best to humour him.

Obi-Wan smiled, and with a quiet sigh, fell back into sleep, the bond going quiet, but remaining intact and peaceful as Obi-Wan stilled.

With a sigh, Anakin laid down next to him, on his side, facing his master.

Guess he’d have to wait till tomorrow to have a chat with him.

Closing his eyes, Anakin let sleep take him too.

And then he was flying through the air.

With a yell, Anakin’s was shocked awake as cold seeped through his clothes and onto his skin, biting in it’s intensity, as water surrounded him. Shocked, well under the water’s surface by now judging by how far away the light was above him, he stayed still for a few moments, as he had not felt the force being return, and had been soundly asleep next to Obi-Wan, which meant – oh no.

Anakin kicked out, breaking the surface of the water with a splash, sunlight blinding him as he emerged, and the tense figure of Obi-Wan standing by the shore with his lightsabre lit, shaking,

“You – don’t come near me,” he threated, raising the blade in front of him, his voice hoarse and anger mixed with fear shuddering across the bond, hurting Anakin with it’s potency.

Looks like Obi-Wan got his memories back – but that he also hadn’t quite understood that he was awake now, and the nightmare was over. Anakin forced himself to calm himself, taking in Obi-Wan’s stance, and was sure that Obi-Wan would not hesitate to hurt him this time if he made the wrong move, especially with the confusion and the anger twisting through the bond.

Kriff.

“Obi-Wan,” he started, treading water with some difficulty as his thick tabard and robe tried to pull him under, a part of his mind still groggy with sleep,

“Don’t speak my name,” Obi-Wan snapped, more unfettered anger coming across the bond and Anakin’s fear increased. What if Obi-Wan had fallen, as the force being had threated would happen? Would he feel it over the bond?

“Okay,” he replied, “but you have to at least give me a chance to explain,” he said, trying to open his mind and let Obi-Wan see that he was telling the truth, “you’ve been trapped in a nightmare created by the force being. It showed you horrible things, Obi-Wan, but it wasn’t real. It was a test, nothing but a sick test, to get me to cooperate with the force being,”

The older man didn’t move, but Anakin felt his train of thought stutter to a halt over the bond,

“What are you saying?” Obi-Wan asked, a tentative hope in the bond, even as his tone spoke of disbelief,

Anakin moved forward slightly, his muscles starting to burn with the effort of keeping himself afloat,

“It wasn’t real,” he said again, his voice bouncing around the cavern, “it wasn’t real, Obi-Wan, I’m alive, the children are alive. Everyone is alive. It was a lie.”

Silence reigned, nothing but the sounds of his movements in the water and the hum of Obi-Wan’s lightsabre in the cavern.

Then Obi-Wan collapsed to his knees with a pained sound, and the lightsabre felt into the shallows of the lake with a splash. Anakin could feel the echoes of his anguish across the bond and he struck out, moving quickly as he could for the shore.

He stumbled as he reached the shallows and moved forward until he was kneeling in front of Obi-Wan, his former master on his hands and knees, staring at the water,

“Master,” he said, reaching out a wet hand towards his shoulder and Obi-Wan brought his head up, his eyes bloodshot and shining with unshed tears,

“Not real?” he asked, a question, a plea and Anakin found words wouldn’t come, looking at the depths of suffering in his master’s eyes, so he shook his head instead, and pulled the man up, into his arms, kneeling on the wet sand of the lake. 

Obi-Wan was still a moment more, before his arms came up and he buried his face in the crook of Anakin’s neck.

“Not real,” he breathed as relief filled the bond, and Anakin held him, sending all his love, all the strength he could across the bond, even as the anger towards the force being grew. He wished that the force being had erased the memories from Obi-Wan’s mind, but he knew it wouldn’t do it, especially if there was a lesson to be learnt from their suffering. It would make them take the hard road.

Anakin let his lips brush Obi-Wan’s cheek as he turned his head towards his master, who was trembling under his touch, the bond filled with a mix of relief and pain.

“Let’s get out of the water,” Anakin said then, grimacing as a wind blew through the cave and he shivered. Obi-Wan nodded against his neck, a burning source of warmth that Anakin was loathe to let go of, but they got to their feet, Anakin bending down to pick up the sabre lying in the shallows. He felt fear in Obi-Wan’s signature spike, and hated that it was directed at him – but didn’t say anything as he gave the weapon back, understanding that just telling Obi-Wan it wasn’t real wasn’t necessarily going to be enough.

Perhaps Obi-Wan would always be wary of him now, he thought, sadness filling him. And in a way, it was not wrong. He had fallen. Perhaps this was the punishment the force had determined for him, for his crimes.

They made their way back to the drier grass, Anakin pulling off the robe and tabard with irritation, dropping it onto the grass, feeling some relief as the press of his thin undershirt against his wet skin was relieved, allowing air to flow.

Obi-Wan sat down as Anakin walked over to retrieve the other backpack on his half of the divider, bringing it with him and sitting down opposite his master. Obi-Wan watched him move with some apprehension,

“What…what was it like? Anakin asked and watched as Obi-Wan recoiled from the question,

“I can’t,” he replied, looking down at the grass, and Anakin nodded, taking out ration supplies and handing them to Obi-Wan, looking at the wet patches on his robes Anakin’s hands and wet clothes had left. Obi-Wan didn’t move and many more minutes passed, Anakin feeling Obi-Wan’s struggle over the bond and unsure what to do.

Finally, his former master looked up, his gaze sad, “How do I know this is real?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin wished he had solid proof for him, unable to imagine how jarring it must have been – the images had looked real enough in the scrying mirror and he had only lived brief moments in the force being’s created realities – what Obi-Wan experienced was beyond his comprehension.

Thinking, the answer came to him, “the bond,” Anakin suggested, reaching for it himself and sending more of his love across it, watching the light in Obi-Wan’s eyes brighten with it, and feeling the responding warmth from Obi-Wan, somehow pushing its way through the storm of emotions to meet his, “the being doesn’t like the bond to exist when it’s playing its games,” Anakin added, a sour note in his voice.

Obi-Wan seemed to think for a minute more, and Anakin noticed his hands were still shaking, but was pleased when the bond hummed as Obi-Wan finally reached for it himself, happiness washing over him as the bond accepted their reunification.

Finally, it seemed to convince Obi-Wan and he relaxed, some of the pain starting to dim.

They ate in silence, Anakin unsure what to say, and Obi-Wan lost in his own thoughts. Anakin started to dry off slowly as time went by and as the sun continued it’s path across the sky, the air in the cave growing warm as they remained quiet, Obi-Wan still thinking but staying close to Anakin, which is all the younger man could ask of him.

Anakin, who was half expecting the force being to come back, stayed on his guard, but as morning turned into afternoon, he figured he might as well go over some of what the being had taught him – for all of Obi-Wan’s suffering, it would be remiss of him to not use what he had been taught. 

He had made his way through the new forms, augmenting it with his own Ataru, and the temperature had started to drop again in the cave when Obi-Wan spoke at last, quiet but warm, and bade him come back and eat.

Nothing more was said between the two of them, the bond still communicating all Anakin needed to know, and the younger man accepting that Obi-Wan had a lot to recover from.

As darkness fell outside, and Anakin ran out of meditation exercises, he sighed and figured he might as well get some rest. Both backpacks were within reach, so he pulled one closer to him and shifted, so that he was lying, and used the soft backpack as a pillow, throwing one arm out to the side, bringing the other up under his head. 

From here, he watched Obi-Wan, sitting in a meditative pose as he had been all day, regal in his composure, his hair falling in soft waves over his forehead, his hands resting over his knees, the tremble in them subsided. As his mind wandered, Anakin shifted his gaze upwards to the starry sky visible through the cave opening, the gentle lapping of the lake having become a familiar and calming sound to him in the peace of the last day, lulling him into rest. His eyelids slid close, and he had nearly drifted off to sleep when he heard Obi-Wan move.

Opening his eyes, he watched as Obi-Wan stood and stretched, wondering where he was going to go, when Obi-Wan walked over to him. He was about to offer the backpack as a pillow, when Obi-Wan sat down close to him, bringing warmth and the smell of the spices that always hung around him. He looked down and caught Anakin’s gaze, and then lay down, bringing his head to rest on Anakin’s outstretched arm, using it as a pillow, the rest of his body close against Anakin’s side.

The younger man froze, Obi-Wan’s touch entirely unexpected but sending the bond fizzing with delight, his own body jolting with heat at every point of contact,

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, wondering what was going on,

“I’m sorry,” the older man replied, his breath a puff of heat against Anakin’s neck, and the apology in the bond too, the shock Obi-Wan had experienced having worn off,

“For what? None of this is your fault,” Anakin replied, keeping his other hand under his head even as it itched with the need to touch the man lying next to him,

“Throwing you into the lake was a little bit my fault,” Obi-Wan said, some humour in his words, despite how quietly they were said, 

“Well, I needed a bath,” Anakin responded, a smile curving his lips, keeping his gaze on Obi-Wan’s eyes, determined to let Obi-Wan control this conversation, given how little control he had over what had happened to him.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment more,

“It was terrible,” he said at last, his voice breaking on the last word and Anakin did move his hand then, turning his body so that it was facing Obi-Wan and bringing his hand up so that it was resting on Obi-Wan’s chest as a shadow passed over the older man’s face,

“I saw it all,” Anakin whispered back, and saw understanding dawn in Obi-Wan’s eyes,

“Everything?”

“Everything,” Anakin replied, “and I hated it, because it could have been what happened, Obi-Wan” Anakin wanted to run from the admission, but he knew it was true, “if you hadn’t been there with me the whole way these last days, it could have been a reality,”

Obi-Wan let out a breath, bringing his hand up to cover Anakin’s on his chest, the grip gentle and alive and everything that Anakin needed, reassuring in it’s solidity,

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Obi-Wan said, “but it felt so real,”

“I know,” Anakin comforted him, remembering his own trials and how the world the force being was capable of creating was so convincing that when Anakin returned to the cave, it took him many minutes to bring himself back to any level of functioning again,

“And the force, Anakin the force, it was dark,” Obi-Wan continued, fear in his voice, “and it called to me. It made me such…promises,” shame interlaced Obi-Wan’s voice and Anakin shook his head,

‘The darkness always lies, but paints pretty pictures,” he said, understanding completely how the ideas seem like such good ones in the moment,

“It said I could have you back,” Obi-Wan said, studying Anakin’s face, his eyes flicking from side to side as if he couldn’t memorise at it fast enough,

“You’re strong,” Anakin said with a smile, pride at his master’s resilience, but Obi-Wan glanced down then, Anakin feeling the loss of his gaze,

“Not when it comes to you,” Obi-Wan breathed, quiet words a confession in themselves and Anakin’s heart broke,

“You didn’t take the offer,” he prompted,

“I…” Obi-Wan looked up, agony in the bond as he considered his next words, “I almost did,” he finished.

Anakin felt sympathy run through him, knowing what it was like to be out on that ledge, “but you didn’t,” he insisted again,

“Not by my own choice,” Obi-Wan said, looking down, looking away, as the bond vibrated with shame, “the vision ended, and the next thing I knew, you were there, sleeping right next to me, and I thought – I thought _I_ had done it, that I had fallen, and brought you back,”

Anakin felt shock run through him at the very thought of Obi-Wan falling, but also realising why Obi-Wan had thrown him away, why he had reacted the way he did. And if he knew Obi-Wan at all, his master was never going to forgive himself without some help,

“You are the reason you were woken up though,” Anakin said, thinking fast, desperate to alleviate the self-directed flagellation written in Obi-Wan’s signature. His master frowned, looking past Anakin’s head at the wall opposite, “Master,” he called, waiting until Obi-Wan looked at him, “I was tested too. And the only reason the being let you go was because I made it through,”

“You were tested?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin marvelled once again at the sheer level of empathy this man had – barely recovered from his own ordeal and worry was already bleeding across the bond, Obi-Wan's own pain forgotten,

“Less painfully than you,” Anakin replied, turning his hand on Obi-Wan’s chest so that his palm met the other’s and he linked their fingers, the touch alone serving to calm the days of anxiety and fear for their future, “but I found my centre, Obi-Wan. I found my light, and I did it because of you,”

“I said before, that you are strong and wise,” Obi-Wan said, fondness in his tone,

“But I would never have gotten through if I didn’t know that it was what you would have wanted for me,” Anakin shrugged in dismissal as he continued, “I am not strong. _We_ are strong. Together,”

Obi-Wan smiled then, and Anakin moved so that they were even closer, Obi-Wan’s entire body now against his, and he pulled Obi-Wan into him, curling the arm that the older man was lying on around, to hold him.

Obi-Wan relaxed in his grip, and that is how they fell asleep, lying on the grass the stars shone down their far away light on them.

They _were_ stronger together.

The force being was not going to break them. Anakin was sure of that.

* * *

**Yay! Im SO SORRY FOR THE ANGST, I felt quite nauseous writing the jedi deaths myself (ommmg the babies) but like yay it wasn’t real (please don’t kill me) and Anakin is finally learning about himself and everyone is alive! Woo!**

**This is the set up chapter for the climax, which means that ten chapters is about where we are going to be heading for unless something else happens. Weekly updates are still a go but yeah if it doesn’t happen, as always, it’ll definitely be no more than two weeks.**

**Love you, lemme know what you think/thought/felt <3 <3 **


	9. Battle Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final trial. Capture. Rebellion.

**Chapter 9 – Battle Born**

**_Once upon a time I had an open point of view_ **

**_But that was just so long ago, before I had a clue._ **

**_Was there such a time where I didn’t stand alone?_ **

**_Was there ever a time, and how would I have known?_ **

**\- Battle Born, Five Finger Death Punch**

  
Obi-Wan tried his hardest to stop examining Anakin’s sleeping face as he sat by him, lit as it was by the lake reflecting the kaleidoscope morning sky, but it was hard, what with the bond humming happily in his mind and the jumble of feelings that wrapped around it, pulling them into an ever tighter orbit around each other.

He had woken at dawn just when the black sky visible through the cavern's skylight was brightening to a deep blue, and had extricated himself from Anakin’s embrace with difficulty, the younger man having thrown his free arm over Obi-Wan, his other arm still a pillow for Obi-Wan’s head. After managing to get loose, though not without a quiet mumble of discontent from Anakin, Obi-Wan had sat up and reached for their pile of food and water, hungry and thirsty from his prolonged entrapment in the nightmare. 

Now, nearly a day and a half after the events, the memories were all still clear as finely crafted glass, glittering ominously in the unrepentant light of his fear. Much like glass, however, they also cracked easily as he once again grounded himself in the present, a task made easier with Anakin’s contentment sitting heavily over him.

Munching on the mostly tasteless ration bar, Obi-Wan found his eyes drifting back down, over Anakin brow, taking in the creases around his eyes and the out of place stubble on his cheek, growing from days without access to a razor. Obi-Wan felt the stirrings of hunger within him as his eyes trailed over Anakin’s lips, soft and parted slightly as he slept, the shadow on his face accenting the gentle curve of his cheekbones, making him look older and still more handsome in the low light.

Mouth rather dry now, Obi-Wan swallowed and threw the half-eaten ration bar over to the pile of food, getting to his feet instead and stretching, enjoying the pop of his joints as he flexed them with practiced movements.

Turning away from Anakin, he walked towards the halo of light on the grass, the gentle slope of the bank leading down to the lake, his thoughts a disordered mess.

It was getting harder to ignore his feelings for Anakin.

After everything he had been through, after spending the night in his arms, after waking with his scent still lingering on Obi-Wan’s clothes and his hand possessively wrapped over Obi-Wan’s sleeping form, Obi-Wan had woken content and frustrated at the same time. Their struggles together had served only to compound what had been building for days, aided by the love Obi-Wan could feel over the bond, more real now than it had ever been before. 

And what a love it was, Obi-Wan thought.

It was unconditional and warm, twined around their connection and flowing with the force as it oscillated between them. It was written in Anakin’s gaze, in the way he had held his silence as Obi-Wan regathered his fractured soul over the last day, in the way he had stayed close, bringing food and water to Obi-Wan to gently encourage him to eat, as though he simply longed to be in Obi-Wan’s presence, but also wanted to give him the space he needed.

It really was a different Anakin to the one he had left on Coruscant all those weeks ago at the height of a their bloody war, their relationship almost as broken as the republic had become.

Shaking his head at how the force had thrown them into this journey and lead Anakin down this new path, Obi-Wan’s stepped onto the soft sand of the lake’s edge and bent over to test the temperature of the water. As it had been yesterday, it was warm, much warmer than the air above it, though it gave off no steam, oddly enough. Nodding to himself, Obi-Wan turned and stepped slightly further up the bank. 

Before all this madness with the force being’s visions, Obi-Wan had only just begun to accept that Anakin might have feelings for him in the first place. Now, with the bond even more potent than it had been, and their prolonged time together, a blind man would have difficulty ignoring how his former padawan felt, and it was chipping away at Obi-Wan's resolve to wait with the subtlety of a battering ram, all talk of focussing on their mission and duty as jedi seeming more and more like insignificant excuses.

Stripping off his outer robe, tabard and tunic, he folded them neatly and then laid them on the ground. Obi-Wan then toed his boots off, and undid his trousers with a quick tug on the ties, before he stepped out of them, the cool air of the cavern raising goosebumps on his skin as he also tugged off his underwear. 

Glancing over his shoulder once more to make sure that Anakin was still asleep, he walked forward. His feet sunk into the soft sand and the water felt like a warm embrace as he waded into the lake’s shallows. He kept going, the floor of the lake dropping away sharply, and before long he was submerged up to his neck, dipping his head under to allow his hair to get wet, scrubbing at the tangles and knots that had built there.

There was a peace in the force around him too, the same peace that had pervaded the air when he had finally regained consciousness for long enough to notice it, during their first week on Razonai. It relaxed him, as he washed the rest of his body, the warm water welcome on skin that had grown sweaty and dusty from lying on the ground. Clean as he could be, Obi-Wan let himself float and soak in the moment, more of the stress and sorrow of his trial bleeding away, as though carried by the gentle currents of the water.

Qui-Gon had always said that the force was in absolutely everything around them, and that water was a primary example of how the force worked – unstoppable and destructive, yet also gentle and lifegiving. When he had been younger, Obi-Wan had scoffed at it, the description odd compared to the warnings and structure the temple masters spoke of.

Now, Obi-Wan could understand it a lot better. He wished he could tell Qui-Gon as much.

Letting his thoughts wander into happier ones of the twins and how much he was going to spoil them when he got back, the cave grew brighter as time passed and the sun rose over the planet once more. 

As true sunlight broke into the cave, Obi-Wan started to feel too warm, and pulled himself out of his reverie as years of discipline demanded that he get to some meditation or practice his forms, given the rather long sojourn he had taken into his own mind.

He was pleasantly relaxed as he climbed out of the lake and he dried himself off with his outer robe, laying it on the grass as he reached for his clothes. He had just pulled his trousers on when he felt the bond tug as Anakin’s mind awakened.

He looked up as he tightened the ties of his trousers and watched Anakin stretch, arching his spine much like a cat, eyes blinking open sleepily. He didn’t stop the fondness the movement generated in him from sliding across the bond and the responding warmth from Anakin was reflected in his gaze as he spotted Obi-Wan.

The sleepy welcome hung over the bond for a moment more as Anakin took in his surroundings, but changed quickly as Obi-Wan finished with the fasteners for his trousers, the older man looking up to see that Anakin’s gaze had sharpened, lingering on him as it had not done before. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat under it, desire pooling low in his gut as Anakin’s thoughts wandered and the bond pulsed with want, something it had been doing with increasing frequency over the last day, and not necessarily from Anakin’s end alone.

“Went for a swim?” Anakin called out, an undercurrent to his tone as he sat up, running a hand over his jaw as his hair settled around his shoulders, mussed and curly,

“Mmm, thought it’d be nice,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice catching as he reached down to snag his tunic and tabard off the floor and pull them both on, swallowing around the sudden apprehension that sat somewhere in his chest, 

“Should have woken me up,” Anakin chastised, a note of playfulness about it as his voice grew nearer. Obi-Wan kept his gaze purposely fixed on his hands, which were adjusting his tabard as he heard Anakin walk towards him, until he could finally build up enough courage to look up. His first thought was that the dark tunic was very loose on Anakin without the tabard and belt to secure it, and seemed to contrast even more with the lightness of his skin,

“Yes, but only a fool would not take moments of quiet when he can get them,” Obi-Wan replied at last, the wit of the comment undercut by the desire in his voice which he couldn’t quite control as Anakin stepped forward into the sunlight and the yellow light highlighted the golden streaks in Anakin’s hair and the whirlpool of colour in his bright irises.

Anakin came to a stop in front of him, Obi-Wan watching in some confusion as he bent over and picked the belt up from the ground carefully, moving with purpose as he stepped forward again, coming to a stop directly inside Obi-Wan’s personal space,

“You love the sound of my voice,” Anakin murmured, leaning forward then, Obi-startling and inadvertently moving into Anakin as he felt the pressure of the solid leather belt at his back, Anakin having reached around and now holding one end in each hand, moving them swiftly to secure the first lock.

His lips were within millimetres of Obi-Wan’s ear as he leaned closer still in the act of checking the belt was sitting correctly, radiating the warmth of sleep as his fingers swept across Obi-Wan’s lower back, leaving prickles of heat in their wake. Obi-Wan felt his breath hitch as Anakin’s lips then brushed the corner of his jaw as he moved back, pulling the belt tighter as his hands deftly did up the second clasp, glancing up through long eyelashes while he did so, Obi-Wan feeling pinned underneath the gaze.

“If you do say so yourself,” Obi-Wan finally managed to reply, gravel in his voice now, as heat continued to blaze across the bond, Anakin’s head tilting slightly to the side as he smiled,

“I know my own talents,” he replied, his eyes flicking down to Obi-Wan’s lips then back up, his gaze darkening as Obi-Wan followed his instinct and brought his hands up to Anakin’s waist, the younger man’s skin somehow even warmer under the thin tunic. Without thinking about it, Obi-Wan stepped slightly closer himself, this time, his thumb tracing Anakin’s hip bone and dipping lower, Anakin’s eyes fluttering closed with it, a low sound leaving his lips,

“You do have many, that is true,” Obi-Wan whispered, biting his own lip as Anakin’s hand, resting on the belt, tightened, his gaze growing more intent.

His breaths coming faster now, Obi-Wan found himself leaning in further still, till they were breathing the same air, as he closed the distance between them.

The first thought in his head was that Anakin’s lips _were_ as soft as they had looked.

Then all other thoughts flew out the window as Anakin growled and pulled their bodies flush with each other, a needy sound torn from Obi-Wan as Anakin’s hand came up to cup his jaw, his tongue sweeping across Obi-Wan’s lips as fire and ice danced through the bond.

Anakin broke away for a moment and Obi-Wan chased him, landing a kiss on his cheek before the hand Anakin had on his jaw shifted backwards, into his hair, pulling his head back, and Obi-Wan moaned, embarrassment flooding through him at the desperation in the noise as Anakin first kissed the soft skin between his shoulder and his neck and then bit, _hard,_ pent up desire quickly washing any of Obi-Wan’s inhibitions away as he groaned, dizzy.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, his words a low vibration against Obi-Wan’s skin, the older man sliding his arms up to Anakin’s shoulders, his knees going weak as Anakin continued kissing and biting his way up his neck, releasing the hold on Obi-Wan’s hair only to bite his way into another kiss, this one more bruising than the last, Obi-Wan making noises he hadn’t heard before as anticipation built within him,

“Anakin,” he gasped, feeling the hard press of Anakin’s interest against his thigh as his own want made him lightheaded. He felt Anakin’s leg wrap around his calf, then the world tilted as Anakin pulled and his knee buckled, bringing them down onto the grass, Anakin somehow managing to use the force to cushion their fall.

Suddenly there was even more contact between them, Anakin bracing his hands either side of Obi-Wan’s head, his hips straddling Obi-Wan’s and effectively trapping him under his taller body. He leant down again to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping inside as Obi-Wan gasped and closed his eyes.

“Want you,” Anakin mumbled as he pulled away again, his metal hand sliding down Obi-Wan’s side, stopping at his waist, its grip tight and possessive. Obi-Wan tried to come up with a response, but then Anakin moved his mouth again, as though he couldn’t taste enough skin, and after a gentle lick to his neck, on the soft skin just under the corner of his jaw, he bit again, even harder than before.

Obi-Wan arched up into Anakin as his vision went white, a whine leaving him as he panted with desire, Anakin licking the bite to ease the sting, Obi-Wan coming more undone with every touch, wanting more, _needing_ more.

“Mmhphh then take me,” Obi-Wan mumbled, lost to the kisses, to Anakin’s hand moving lower, over his hip, the friction of their clothes between them making every move agonising in its pleasure,

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled, pulling back so that he could look at him. Colour was high on his cheeks, his lips were full and flushed, and his eyes were dark with want, “do you know…how you sound?” Anakin asked, a note of disbelief in his voice and Obi-Wan did feel embarrassed then, dropping his gaze, wondering what Anakin must think of him,

“Sorry-”

“You sound like you want to be mine _,_ Master. _”_

Obi-Wan brought his gaze back up, possession and satisfaction dripping through the bond from Anakin as the honorific set off another wave of lust within him, much to his chagrin. With a smirk that said he used the title on purpose, and very much enjoyed Obi-Wan’s reaction to it, Anakin sat up and pressed his full weight down against Obi-Wan’s hips, trailing his eyes down Obi-Wan’s heaving chest as though examining a prize. Anakin’s eyes flicked to Obi-Wan’s lips, and Obi-Wan wanted to close the distance between them again, wanted to taste, wanted to touch,

“Yes,” he replied, breathy, and wondered what Anakin would do next when the force around them suddenly tightened, and then an all too familiar power surge disoriented them both. 

Obi-Wan turned his head away and brought up a hand to press at his eyes as pain reverberated through his skull. Above him, Anakin groaned and winced, the intensity of what he and Anakin had just shared making it difficult to refocus,

“Not now, fuck off,” Anakin muttered from above him and Obi-Wan looked up to see that the other man had the same look of frustration on his face, shaking his head as though to clear it. Then he was moving, climbing off Obi-Wan, extending a hand and grasping Obi-Wan’s in his,

“What do you want? Are you going to let us go?” Anakin asked as Obi-Wan took his help and pulled himself to his feet, his interest dying quickly as he instead extended his senses, dispelling the lust sitting under his skin, calming his heart rate, and using Anakin’s hand in his to ground himself. 

The force presence coalesced in front of him, tall and white, different to what Obi-Wan had seen in his vision, black and red highlights in its robes suggesting that perhaps _this_ was its true form, a mix of both light and dark.

 _Before I can let you return to the galaxy, there is a final test you must complete,_ it said, and judging by the frown on Anakin’s face, the being was speaking into both their minds,

“I’m tired of your trials,” Obi-Wan said and the force presence seemed to retreat slightly, wrapping around itself, hovering in front of them as it spread it’s hands.

_I am the force. I have lived many, many thousands of years. Humans have always been weak, and unpredictable. Little did I know about your bond, or your resilience. I have learned a lot._

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Anakin, whose irritation had faded to mild surprise as the being continued,

_I apologise for trapping you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker proved to be an excellent student, and learned far quicker than I could have hoped._

“He always was a fast learner,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat dryly even as pride lit up the bond and Anakin grinned back at him, looking more comfortable in himself than he had been for a long time,

“I had the best teacher,” Anakin replied, the quiet words and his gaze meant only for Obi-Wan, the older man wondering briefly if _this_ happiness was the dream – surely this feeling of hope and love could not be real?

 _Both of you are well suited to this task,_ the being said, and Obi-Wan turned to look back at it, it’s unnerving face, whatever it looked like now, hidden by the deep cowl of the white robe, the being distorting the sunlight that came in from behind it, 

“So what do we have to do?” Anakin asked,

_There is a war in your past, Kenobi and Skywalker. There is also war in your future. The battle that is to come will not be simple. You must once again, make choices._

Obi-Wan felt the trepidation from Anakin, but tightened his grip on the younger man’s hand, saying with a glance that he trusted Anakin would make the right one, in answer to the worry written in Anakin’s features. The force being continued,

_Skywalker is more than capable now of taking on The Dark One. A weapon you will require. In the caverns to the north, deep under the dwelling, there is a crystal, one that you have earned, Skywalker._

“A crystal?” Obi-Wan pondered aloud, “like a lightsabre crystal? He already has a lightsabre,”

_Solari will come to the hands of the one chosen by the force and whose soul belongs to another. United, these three shall bring balance. Suffice that one should live, then the other cannot die._

Obi-Wan blinked, confused at the odd and cryptic phrases, “Wait, what are you saying?” he asked, but the being was silent, floating in front of them. Anakin took his hand back, gently letting go of Obi-Wan’s as he brought his arm across his chest,

“Was that a prophecy?” Anakin asked, frown lines marring his face, “what the kriff do you mean by that?”

_Take the passage under the dwelling. Find the crystal. Defeat the Dark One._

Obi-Wan shook his head, sharing another confused glance with Anakin, and then suddenly everything went dark, and Obi-Wan, determined not to be separated again, reached out, taking Anakin’s hand back in his own, a grip returned by the younger man as the floor suddenly disappeared and gravity pulled them down.

If they were going to fall, they were going together.

* * *

Quinlan tried not to feel immense pride when Hautie, covered in mud, little pieces of rock and with a small tear on her pant leg, came back to him first, with her yellow crystal sitting on her palm. He didn’t stop his responding smile as he knelt down in front of her and closed her fingers around it, his hand dwarfing hers, the crystal vibrating as Hautie’s grip tightened, and she grinned back at him.

He didn’t say anything, and Hautie let herself drop to the ground next to the backpacks at Quinlan’s feet, clearly exhausted, as they waited for the other padawans to return to the outer cavern, hopefully all bearing crystals of their own. 

The day was running on, however, and Quinlan decided that if they were not out in another hour, he was going in to get them, crystal or no, before they all got sealed in and he had cut their way out with his own lightsabre. Ordinarily, padawans were never told that the masters would come and get them if the day ended and they were trapped behind the waterfall – unfortunately, Quinlan thought, there was nothing normal about these padawans and the future that they faced.

Leaving Hautie to her own thoughts, watching her drooping eyelids and knowing that she would most definitely fall asleep soon, Quinlan walked back to the centre of the cavernous room, its stunning stone etchings and the immense power that sat in the planet around them a strange thing to get used to after the gentle and unassuming lifeforce of Razonai.

Quinlan did not bother with making an attempt at meditation, too worried about the tinge of warning in the force, and feeling exposed and vulnerable out here, guarding the last of the jedi padawans. Instead he dropped into a meditative pose and pulled out his hunting knife and after checking it for damage, began to sharpen it. As time went on, he put it away and sat and watched instead as one by one, the padawans returned.

Each of them had acquired a crystal, acknowledging Quinlan with a bow before they turned and dropped to next to their packs, dirty and tired but clearly elated all the same. The gathering was a gruelling thing, and what they had experienced in the caves affected them just as it had once affected Quinlan, the Kiffar remembering how comforting it had been to come back to the other padawans, Obi-Wan a solid and comforting presence as they waited for their other classmates all those years ago. 

Focusing back on the present, it warmed Quinlan to see how the padawans seemed to sit closer together, hands on shoulders or back to back, each of them with a new respect for each other.

Just as he was beginning to worry, the last of the padawans and the oldest of them, Junstal, finally came back out, dirtier and more tired than anyone else. Knowing that it was not his place to ask what had happened, though he was concerned, Quinlan allowed him to drop next to his fellow students, as all eyes turned towards him,

“Well done,” Quinlan said, the first words he had spoken since they arrived, getting to his feet, his legs stiff underneath him from sitting on the concrete. He genuinely did not know how Yoda did it, at his extremely advanced age, and still didn’t look even slightly uncomfortable when he stood up. Pushing the frivolous thoughts out of his head, tired from a day of supervision and on edge as warnings in the force grew stronger as the day progressed, he focused back on them.

“I am happy you were able to find your crystal. We shall construct the sabres on the way back. Collect your bags, it’s time we were going,” Quinlan instructed and the padawans did as they were told, slowly collecting their belongings, Quinlan pleased to see how Junstal took the bag from Hautie, the young girl barely able to stay standing at all. 

Once they were ready, Quinlan turned and headed for the door.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his hands itched for his sabre, so he unhooked it, never ignoring warnings in the force for seldom did they come with no reason,

“Be on your guard,” he said, his eyes scanning left to right as they walked out of the entrance hall and into the darkness of the corridor that led back to the surface,

“Is something wrong, Master?” Junstal asked, and Quinlan grimaced,

“I am not sure,” Quinlan answered truthfully, reaching out with all his senses, but struggling to push out against the overwhelming power in the caves. Accepting that he could do no more, Quinlan held a hand up behind him to stop the young ones just before the exit, “if something goes wrong, you are to make a break for the shuttle, do not wait, do not look back, and go straight to Razonai. The coordinates are in the computer,” he turned so that he was looking at Junstal, “you are responsible for making sure everyone gets back home,” Quinlan said, the boy’s eyes wide at his words, a look of fear reflected in them, 

“But Master-”

“We are at war,” Quinlan said, his voice low, any pride in the padawan’s accomplishments evaporating as the urgency in the force grew stronger, the warnings more dire, “you do not have the leisure of growing into your responsibility, or having a master to guide your hand. You are responsible for getting yourselves back to the other masters on Razonai. Whatever happens up there, I am not your concern,”

“But Master Quinlan-” Hautie started and Quinlan felt his heart clench, knowing that he would see disappointment in her eyes as he turned his attention to her, 

“Your life is precious, Hautie,” he said, making sure that she understood he was not to be questioned on this, “my job is to get you back,”

A thud reverberated from above them then, something so deep and resounding that it could only be another space craft landing above them. The shuttle was still cloaked, and Quinlan handed the chip over to Junstal, “we have no time. Will you take them back?” Quinlan asked.

The boy looked over to the other padawans, who were not looking scared so much as they were resigned, Hautie’s face set in determination. The boy looked back to Quinlan and nodded. Assured, Quinlan hit the button for the release and the door sprung open above him.

Assaulted by the temperature change, Quinlan leapt out before the platform could ascend, coming to stand just in front of the opening.

For a moment, nothing around him looked any different to what it had when they landed. Snow was sleeting down, forming a wall of white around him, the few breaks in it showing nothing but the white cliffs and trees spreading out around them in every direction

But the force was vibrating with warning now, strung tightly and Quinlan lit his sabre, the green catching the water in the snow and diffusing around him, his eyes desperately trying to find what the force was trying to tell him about. 

Then chaos erupted and shapes moved in the white storm, and Quinlan was suddenly fighting for their lives.

Drawing on the font of light here, Quinlan deflected the bolts with ease, his mind on the unarmed and defenceless padawans who were just emerging from the chamber. 

“GET TO THE SHUTTLE!” he yelled, struggling to spot the stormtroopers who were perfectly camouflaged in the snow that was falling, the low temperatures setting his teeth on edge as behind him the children hurried out and the chamber resealed itself. 

Immediately the direction of the blaster bolts changed direction towards the huddled group, and Quinlan roared with rage at the very thought of anyone opening fire on a group of _children._ Drawing on everything he had, he threw up a shield so powerful that the snow howling around them hit it instead as it ballooned up around them and silenced the sound of the storm and the blasters. 

Holding onto it with all his might, the children ran behind him as he gritted his teeth, his strength draining with every second he had to hold the barrier up, stepping backwards as fast as he could, blaster bolts hammering against it, as they made their way over to the shuttle. 

Behind them, the craft popped into view as Junstal raised his arm and deactivated the cloak, bolts bouncing harmlessly off the ship's own excellent shielding. Glancing behind him to check on the Padawan's progress, Quinlan’s apprehension grew at the sheer amount of blaster fire that lit the white ground around them, wondering if they were going to get off this rock alive.

Quinlan moved back towards the ship's entrance as much as he could, effectively sealing them off, the ship forming a wall at their back, the force shield preventing entry from the front.

With a whirr and then a loud thump, the ramp lowered itself and Junstal all but threw Hautie in, Quinlan groaning with the effort of his shield, the lightsabre trembling in his grasp as he determinedly kept the it up, totally blocking off the trooper’s approach,

“Master, get on!” Junstal called and Quinlan turned back to see that everyone was aboard, standing at the top of the ramp, gesturing at him frantically.

He locked eyes with Junstal, and, steeling himself and ignoring the sinking feeling in his belly, he shook his head.

He could not move, with every last ounce of his energy going into maintaining the shield.

He didn’t think he could generate the shield again if he let it down now and had a feeling he might just pass out before he could raise his other arm and fight back with his sabre.

Then the troops would rush the ship, and all this would be for naught.

Understanding in his eyes, Junstal nodded and began to herd the children away from the entrance. Quinlan heard Hautie’s yells, the children’s voices mixing as the sounds of soldiers and guns grew louder on the other side of the barrier, snow starting to trickle through as the massive barricade he created grew smaller with his waning power.

His whole body shaking with the effort now, he stared forward with gritted teeth, the white wall in front of him splintering, the odd piece of ice and snow hitting him in the face. With a sense of relief, he heard the whirr of machinery and then the thud of the ramp sealing behind him. 

The padawans were safe.

Unable to hold it for even a second more, Quinlan dropped the shield, immediately dizzy and gasping for breath, his arm unresponsive to him as he tried to raise his sabre, the snow and ice that he had been holding back swirling in to batter him. Bent over double, his eyes watering and his cheeks stinging, Quinlan had only a few milliseconds to take in what was happening around him. 

More than a battalion of troopers were fanned out in attack formation, oddly enough, a group of red clad soldiers interspersed between them, their silhouettes distorted by the sleet, and then the force of the shuttle's engines powering on.

The padawans were safe.

Time seemed to slow as red bolts, beautiful in their intensity against the white backdrop of Ilum continued their deadly trajectories, towards where the children had been.

Towards where Quinlan stood.

The Kiffar had nothing left. He was defenceless. The green blade of his sabre seemed dim in comparison to those deadly projectiles, and it disappeared altogether as his fingers suddenly lost their grip and the sabre fell to the snow beneath him, Quinlan looking up in shock, a part of his mind struggling to comprehend what had happened.

The world spun and he fell to his knees.

Four blaster bolts caught him in the chest, two in the legs and one in the arm.

The shooting stopped, and his hearing flickered in and out of focus.

The roar of the engines behind him grew suddenly quieter and he found himself falling forwards, his body grew limp and unresponsive. 

The padawans were safe.

His cheek was resting on the snow now, and as the sound of radio communications grew more faint, and the day seemed to darken, Quinlan wondered why he couldn’t feel the cold anymore.

At least, there was peace here.

* * *

Bail rubbed his eyes tiredly, leaning against one of the pillars in the large atrium, the other senators milling about and stretching their legs after another four-hour senate session.

Bail still couldn’t see any overarching pattern in Palpatine’s behaviour, though he could see the wisdom of not contesting the bills that were currently under analysis. All of them brought greater stability to the galaxy, and if you were going to eradicate democracy and rule with an iron fist, then you needed a strong foundation or you'd have nothing left to rule over. 

All these bills, and all these proposed changes also meant that Bail was exhausted from the sheer number of hours he has put in these last days. Being one of the most influential of the senators, he was approached to co-sponsor bills and to take the lead on multiple new projects, people trusting his judgement and wanting his input.

It was good, in a way. He could pick and choose the proposals that were the most important, and subtly shift others opinions away from the bills that would hurt poorer, outer rim planets, or tilt the economy in greater favour of the corporations. If only it didn’t involve so much _talking_.

With another quiet sigh, Bail sipped his caf contemplatively, eyes scanning the room in an old habit of his, finding that sitting back and watching sometimes revealed a lot more than trying to make friends in this pit of snakes. His mind momentarily wandered back to Breha, who was at home with Cody, helping the clones to plan the upcoming mission while a feverish excitement spread through Coruscant, every holo channel, and every radio broadcast discussing the upcoming fight, and the celebrities and politicians who were going to attend.

Bail huffed to himself, never having much desire to see men beat each other to a pulp and always hating the violence that the result of these heavily bet upon matches tended to inspire in the days following it.

Just as he was about to push off the pillar he was leaning against and make his way back to the senate floor, his gaze was caught by a flash of red, as a troupe of the imperial guards wandered into the atrium, heading for the service droids who were holding light refreshments. At the very back, one guard broke away and didn’t follow his colleagues, instead making his way to one of the many balconies, Bail watching him closely he pulled his helmet off, immediately recognising the young man.

Devrow Talfer’s shoulders seemed to droop, now he thought he was alone, and there was uncertainty in his posture, though Bail could not see his face from this far across the room.

Finishing his caf with another gulp, Bail placed the cup on one of the side pillars and made his way over, weaving around the senators as he went. The air was muggy and the pollution hung lower than usual in the absence of wind, the sun setting on the horizon in the distance.

The young man glanced over to him, the sadness in his eyes immediately shuttered as he acknowledged Bail, and a smile that didn’t match his previous body language settling on his face, “Senator Organa,” he said, a sharpness to his words that Bail didn’t like to hear, the innocence the kid displayed only yesterday gone,

“Officer Devrow,” he replied, keeping his tone light, “is everything alright?”

For a moment Bail thought the kid might actually tell him what had been bothering him, but then his shoulders straightened, and he nodded, “yes, all is well,” he stated.

Bail nodded, allowing a moment of silence, “I heard you guys have had a bit of trouble,” Bail prompted then, hinting at the rumours that a high profile prisoner had been apprehended and brought to the holding cells, the prison ship flying straight past the senate floor, and looking like it was heading upwards. At the time, Bail hadn’t thought much of it.

During their last break, one of senators, a representative from the outer rim, had asked him if he knew anything. He answered honestly when he said he didn’t.

Now he was wondering if perhaps he should find out more.

A shadow seemed to flit across Devrow’s face as he thought, his gaze critical. His eyes hardened then and he looked away, “I haven’t heard anything,” he said, the friendly and open man that Bail had talked to yesterday replaced with this formal and stiff guard. Perhaps his seniors had heard that he had been too friendly with the senators, and he had been reprimanded, Bail thought, but there was something in his gut telling him it was something more, and that it must have to do with the prisoner.

Sensing that he would not get anything else out of Devrow, he nodded and took his leave, looking back over his shoulder as the façade the kid had put on dropped once more, and he leaned over the railing, dejection in the curve of his back and tightness returning to his shoulders.

Bail returned to the senate floor with the others to finish deliberation as afternoon turned into evening, emerging from the room with a headache that spanned the whole of his head. 

Taking a route that had become familiar over the many years, Bail walked out of the senate building and got into the taxi waiting to take him home and pulled out his datapad as he settled in for the long drive. He had finished replying to all his official correspondence by the time he had pulled up in front of his apartment and eased his way out onto the landing platform. With a wave of thanks to the driver, he walked across the balcony and opened the living room door, stepping inside.

He came to an abrupt halt as he realised his path was impeded by the mess in front of him.

Wires, powders of various colours, metal, soldering irons, and metal casings were arranged in some semblance of order, but were spread across the couches, the table and the carpet, all in various stages of assembly.

“Breha!” he called, stepping over the debris carefully, the smell of metal and ozone in the air,

“In the bedroom!” she called back, and Bail had the surreal moment of a male voice following her voice out,

“Don’t step on the red powder!”

Taking heed of the warning, Bail picked his way across, and came to stand in the doorway, Breha on the bed with Cody, a large metal plate between them, both of them fiddling with what looked like the chipboards that normally powered a computer,

“Been busy?” Bail asked, a raised eyebrow, a part of him knowing that he really should protest at them using the bed, but also unable to come up with another, more appropriate place at which both of them could work, given the spread of their day’s toil,

“Very productive, my love,” Breha replied not looking up, “can you get the droids started on dinner?” she asked,

Next to her, pauldrons and chest pieces stripped off and lying in the lounge room, Cody did glance up to look at him, a note of apology in his voice, “I’ll just have whatever you both are,” he said and Bail tilted his head in acknowledgement before he made his way back out.

This really wasn’t what most senators meant when they came home to find their wife in bed with another man.

Examining the pieces of metal and the configuration of wires around them, Bail almost wished it did have the usual meaning, fear settling somewhere below his heart at the danger he and Breha were walking into, not so much for himself, but for her.

These were bombs. And tomorrow they were going to light up the Coruscant sky and move from being a rumour in the underworld to a very real threat, against the might of the new empire, lead by a man who had no qualms with killing.

Giving a dinner order to the droids Bail sighed, leaning on the kitchen table and looking at nothing in particular. It would have been nice if he could have kept Breha out of this. But they had always done everything together, and there wasn't a hope in hell that she would sit out while he took all the risks. 

The droid beeped its completion, and so he let it take the food to the bedroom, while he took his own plate and headed for the lounge room, leaving the two of them to it, their voices murmuring in conversation as he ate quietly in the lounge room.

He enjoyed the moment of rest, and though he would normally offer assistance to them, he felt drained from the day, and from the looks of things, they had things well in hand anyway.

He finished dinner quickly and once he had showered and changed in the spare bedroom, he wandered back to the lounge and settled down in front of the holoscreen.

Time wore on and evening turned into true night, as his eyelids drooped over his eyes and he fell asleep.

The next thing he knew, Breha was standing in front of him, running a gentle hand through his hair,

“Sorry love,” she said, softly, dressed in casual pants and a loose blouse, the ones she preferred when they were on vacation somewhere warm,

“Mmm s’okay,” Bail replied, groggily checking the chrono to see with surprise that it was already past midnight,

“Come to bed, love, Cody’s staying in the guest bedroom,” she tugged on his arm and he got to his feet under her gentle guidance,

“Spending all day with a clone in bed,” Bail said, a smile tilting his lips upwards as she led him through the now cleared lounge room, twelve metal crates standing by the landing platform, in stark contrast to the dark red curtains that blocked off the outside world,

“Yes, very scandalous,” Breha replied, her voice still soft, Bail’s tiredness replaced with more worry as the bruises she had sustained yesterday stood out in contrast to her light skin, the mark on the back of her neck disappearing below her collar. He found himself reaching for it, running light hands over her skin and she looked up at him, “they look worse than they are,” she reassured him, and he hummed, letting his hand fall away as he tugged the covers down and crawled into his side of the bed.

Breha didn’t say anything more as she disappeared into the shower and Bail found that sleep would not come as worry continued to crawl under his skin. It was not that he regretted helping the jedi – he would do it again in a heartbeat – but he remembered the loneliness in Obi-Wan’s eyes and the pain in his voice as he had dealt with all the losses he had faced.

If Bail were to lose Breha he didn’t know if he had Obi-Wan’s strength to go on.

Breha emerged some time later, walking around the bed to her side, lying down and then sidling up to him, pulling the covers over herself and bringing her head to rest on his shoulder as he adjusted and wrapped his arm around her,

“You’re worried,” she said flatly, never one to beat around the bush,

“I am,” Bail replied, wit and snark gone as he let the fear he had been feeling all day seep into the words,

“I am too,” Breha replied, as the lights above them switched off, throwing them into darkness,

“I do not know what would happen if I lost you,” Bail admitted, turning so that he was speaking to her hair and he felt her move still closer,

“I know what you mean,”

There was silence for a while more, neither of them really having much more to say on the subject. Breha moved so that her hand was on his chest, warm and comforting, just over where his heart was.

Little by little, soothed by her presence, he found himself relaxing.

Then the lights turned back on and he opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness as Breha levered herself off his chest. A whirring at the door drew his attention and the service droid appeared,

“A visitor for you, on urgent business,” it said, disapproval in it’s mechanical tone. Bail looked to Breha who frowned, pushing herself out of bed and opening the bedside drawer, pulling out a blaster pistol,

“Where did you get that?” Bail asked, also getting out of bed, an ache behind his eyes as he forced them to function despite the hour,

“Cody,” she said with a shrug and he rolled his eyes,

“Naturally.”

Turning from her, Bail buttoned his sleeping top up a little more and then walked into the living room, his eyebrows springing upwards as he caught sight of their visitor,

“Devrow?” he asked, thrown for a moment before his guard went back up and he added, “can the emperor spare you?” with a meaningful glance to Breha who had come to stand beside him, a warning in his words that this was not a friend, not yet.

The boy looked even worse than Bail felt. He had dark circles around his eyes, and in his dark civilian clothes looked thin, and underweight for his height – a huge change in a very short time, which had Bail’s bad feeling from early return tenfold,

“You did say to drop in,” Devrow replied, looking between the two of them,

“I did,” Bail replied, walking forward and dropping onto the couch opposite the guard, Breha coming to sit next to him, “this is my wife, Breha Organa. Breha, this Devrow Talfer, one of the newest recruits to the Imperial guard,”

Breha nodded at the kid, who replied with a tired smile,

“This might seem very inappropriate,” he said, locking gaze with Bail, “but…everyone I’ve spoken to says you’re a man of reason, and honour,” another shadow flicked across his face, the same one that Bail had seen this afternoon,

“Flattering words,” Bail said, “I hope I live up to those expectations,”

The guard nodded, “I hope so too,” he took a deep breath in, let it out and then squared his shoulders, as though he was bracing himself for the worst, “I went on a mission yesterday, when I was picked to escort two battalions of troopers,” he bit his lip as his fist clenched on his lap, “I was proud to be chosen, I though this was a reward for doing well in all my duties. We boarded the new hyper speed craft, as its capable of travelling the galaxy very quickly, you see, and I think we were going quite far away. We reached our destination in only two hours, and set up for a battle on a planet made entirely of ice and rock. Our mission, the emperor said, was to retrieve traitors to the empire,”

He dropped his gaze to his lap, clearly struggling with the next words, “But I do not think they were traitors. There was only one warrior. The rest were not…we opened fire on children,”

There was dead silence in the room, Breha’s hand coming up to clench Bail’s forearm as she shared an alarmed look with him, as Devrow kept his head bowed, shame written in his posture.

There really is only one group of children that the emperor would bother to eradicate. 

It had to be Jedi Padawans, somehow, perhaps on a mission. How could Yoda send them out like that, Bail wondered, some anger colouring his spirit at the very wastefulness of it all – had everything he and Breha done been in vain?

“Did they die?” Breha asked, Bail’s attention shifting back to her and Devrow, mercifully, shook his head,

“They were defended by someone, a man who used magic to stop our bullets,” Devrow looked back up, a glassy sheen over his gaze, “he took four bullets to the chest, and fell, but he saved the children. I thought at least he died with honour. But he had lived, and the troopers were under orders to resuscitate him. So we brought him back, and the Emperor is holding him at central city prison,” Devrow held his hand out, 

“I am a Mandalorian. We fight for honour. This man defended innocents, was not given a fair fight, and I believe he is to be tortured. This is not honourable. This is not the way."

Bail sighed, “That is a troubling story, Devrow,” he said, carefully picking his words, aware that this entire thing could be a very well crafted trap, “but I am just a senator, what can I do?” he asked.

Devrow frowned, “I do not come on behalf of the Emperor,” he said, “I would not participate in such subterfuge. I ask you, because honourable men like you would not stand for something like this,”

Bail turned to look at Breha who seemed to be deliberating,

“How old are you kid?” she asked, and the guard looked thrown, his intensity fading and his youth becoming more apparent as he stumbled over his answer,

“Nineteen next month, Ma’am,” he said, and Bail sighed. He really was as young as he looked.

“Did you happen to catch this man’s name?” Breha asked and Devrow nodded,

“Quinlan. Quinlan Vos,”

Bail felt a stab of anxiety. Looks like they were going to have to change their plans slightly. Somehow, prison breaks seem to be becoming standard routine these days.

Bail looked over to Breha, who had the same look of determination in her face that she had when the two of them had decided to come back to Coruscant.

“Let’s get Cody.”

* * *

Anakin winced as his knees connected with cement and his senses came back to him, his grip on Obi-Wan’s hand slipping with the force of impact, his breath knocked out of him as he fell forward. Opening his eyes and raising his head he met Obi-Wan’s gaze and smiled despite the pain in various parts of his body as Obi-Wan, who had also fallen on his front, relaxed and rolled over.

Uncharacteristically relaxed though he may seen, Anakin could feel exhaustion in Obi-Wan’s signature and copied him, also rolling onto his back so that he was staring up at the rock overhang ceiling of the balcony from which they were transported all those days ago. Judging by the deep black of the sky and the multitude of systems and stars that decorated it, it was probably coming on a full three days, and they had once again jumped forward in time when they were teleported,

“It would be nice if we didn’t have to get thrown around like rag dolls,” Obi-Wan observed, his voice coloured with some amusement and Anakin huffed,

“It would also be nice if we could catch a break, just a small one,” Anakin complained back, and felt Obi-Wan’s agreement in the bond, even as a gentle nudge of concern accompanied it, Anakin opening his mind to it and showing Obi-Wan that he wasn’t actually all that upset – he regretted the events had to happen at all, but he was grateful that somehow, they had both pulled through.

“I suppose we should probably get back to the ship, and figure out what ‘the passage below the dwelling’ means,” Obi-Wan sighed, a note of resignation in his voice and Anakin moved then, rolling to sit up and turning, so that he was looking at Obi-Wan. The older man tilted his head to the side to meet his gaze, looking worn out,

“I suppose we should,” Anakin agreed, reaching out slowly, so that Obi-Wan could stop him at any time, and bringing his hand to the other’s cheek. Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted closed and Anakin let his fingers trace the well-defined cheek bones, catching on the growing stubble.

He still couldn’t quite believe that he knew exactly how that skin tasted. He half expected, now they were back in the cold light of reality once more, that Obi-Wan would retreat, would quote regulations and expectations and back away from this new development between them. But the bond hummed warmly, and Obi-Wan turned his head into Anakin’s palm, kissing the base of his thumb lightly as he opened his eyes again, and then pulled away, sitting up slowly,

“Anakin, I don’t think I’ve actually said it aloud yet,” Obi-Wan started, looking serious, his face now only a couple centimetres away from Anakin’s as he leaned on one arm to support himself,

“Said what?” Anakin asked, distracted by how the low moonlight caught Obi-Wan’s lips, adding a touch of colour in the otherwise dim night-time palette, the words themselves soft and intimate between them. Obi-Wan seemed to struggle for words, once again, a change in him that Anakin had never seen before,

“I -”

A boom sounded above them and drew their eyes skywards, Obi-Wan moving away from Anakin to look behind him. A flash rent through the night sky and the force around them grew suddenly turbulent, before it settled back down, and Anakin realised it was a ship that had just arrived – the shuttle that Quinlan and the padawans had taken.

Something was wrong though, the shuttle moving up and down, struggling to control its trajectory and it’s speed a little fast for the distance it had before it landed in the shuttle bay,

“What is Quinlan thinking?” Obi-Wan muttered, getting to his feet, “he’s coming in from the wrong direction,”

“Maybe he’s finally flipped,” Anakin suggested and was not even a little discouraged by the baleful look Obi-Wan through his way,

“Something is wrong,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin repressed a twinge of irritation, because Obi-Wan was right, the shuttle wasn’t flying correctly, and as it flew over the temple, Anakin was even more surprised to see the landing gear was not down yet,

“Let’s get back to it then,” Anakin said, resignation in his voice.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

Glancing around, Anakin spotted his tabard and belt, plainly returned to them by the being – thank the force – and hurriedly pulled it on, indicating that they could start walking as he tightened his own belt and shoved the memory of him fixing Obi-Wan’s belt earlier that day out of his head, the desire within him not even close to sated, and if anything even more troublesome now than before. 

He wondered if Obi-Wan was having the same trouble with putting it behind him as the hurried into the temple, Obi-Wan leaving his lightsabre off as the moon provided enough light for them to see by.

Anakin wasn’t a novice – jedi were hardly forbidden from sexual escapades after all – but somehow a single kiss from Obi-Wan, the memory of the sounds that had left his mouth when Anakin had bitten him, the possession that had mixed with his desire and the victory from having him at long last – it had felt a thousand times more satisfying that even the lewder activities that Anakin had participated in as a frustrated teenager.

He wondered what would have happened if the force being hadn’t interrupted, but as Obi-Wan sent a nudge of disapproval over the bond, Anakin pushed that thought away too. Glancing over at his former master as he lit the sabre in the darker hallway of the ground floor, he smirked when he saw the colour on Obi-Wan’s cheeks – he hadn’t intended to project his thoughts, but he couldn’t find himself feeling sorry either,

“Oh Anakin, behave,” Obi-Wan reprimanded him, exasperation in his tone,

“I am allowed to think whatever I want to,” Anakin shot back, “you don’t have to listen,”

“I think you’ll find that you’re loud enough when you speak physically and mentally that I _do_ have to listen, actually” Obi-Wan said,

“Well I also listen, master, and it seems to me that you don’t really mind all that much,” Anakin said, once again felt a spark of desire from Obi-Wan’s side of the bond as it clearly agreed with him and the older man’s cheeks grew redder.

They walked through the front door and back outside, Obi-Wan choosing to maintain what was left of his dignity by remaining silent and focusing on where they were going. Anakin counted that as a win, and resolved to fluster his master more often.

Especially given that he _liked_ being called master, much to Anakin’s great surprise.

He brought his mind back to their mission however, as the ship came into view and as the door opened to Obi-Wan’s code, the sound of alarms hit them, odd and electronic after days spent in a natural setting. Exchanging a glance, Anakin led the way as he hurried forward in a semi-jog, making for the hangar – they hadn’t heard anything of the shuttle after it had passed over the temple, but maybe it had crashed?

The bedroom doors were thrown open as they made haste through the corridor, and Anakin could hear the twins crying somewhere. Concern flashed through Obi-Wan and he hesitated in front of Yoda’s door, but with a glance at Anakin, decided to continue onwards.

Anakin hoped that all the children were alright. But selfishly, he found himself hoping Quinlan was alright even more than that, despite his own feelings on the matter – he wasn’t sure that Obi-Wan could take much more loss in his life.

They hurried down the stairs and the sounds of voices and distressed children reached them. Anakin increased his pace, Obi-Wan slipping in front of him. He turned through the hangar entrance a second behind Obi-Wan and took in the scene in front of him.

The oldest of the padawans, Junstan, was gesticulating wildly to the masters, who were gathered in front of him, while the older children had taken a seat on the ramp, dry eyed, but their pain written in the force,

“What happened? Is everyone alright?” Obi-Wan called and all eyes turned to them, but though there were murmurs of welcome, the tone was muted. Anakin felt his gut twist as Obi-Wan’s signature grew more worried,

“Masters Kenobi and Skywalker, welcome you back, we do,” Yoda said, raising his stick off the floor to emphasise the words,

“Something terrible happened, Master Kenobi!” Junstan said, drawing attention back to him, “Master Vos – he – he’s dead!”

Anakin stepped forward and dropped a hand onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the older man resonating shock in the force. Several moments passed before Anakin realised that his former master wasn’t going to say anything, and suddenly wanting to get out of here as fast as he could, Anakin asked, “How did it happen?” his throat dry and pain behind his eyes as Obi-Wan’s mind seemed to shut down, the glowing bond suddenly dimming, leaving him feeling bereft without it, 

“We were ambushed on Ilum,” a quieter, higher pitched voice cut in and Anakin turned to see Hautie standing behind him, having come around from the group at the ramp,

“Waiting for you, it seems, the empire was,” Yoda nodded sadly,

“He’s not dead,” Obi-Wan said, looking back to Yoda and Anakin furrowed his brow,

“Obi-Wan - ” he started and Obi-Wan shook his head,

“No he isn’t dead, I didn’t feel his death,”

“We were trapped, we might not have been able to,” Anakin replied, trying to go for reasonable but as always, unable to keep his own emotions at bay even if they were out of his tone – jealousy was a difficult emotion to overcome, and if the man really was dead, completely inappropriate at this time,

“Feel his death I did not either,” Yoda replied and Anakin turned an annoyed gaze at him, not wanting to raise Obi-Wan’s hopes,

“Neither did I!” Hautie cut in, “he agreed he would be my master, and I would be his padawan,” she added, her voice trembling at the end there and Anakin felt true sadness then, not just for her but all these children. They just kept losing so much.

“It would be remiss of us to consider him dead if we have not seen him fall,” Kom agreed, nodding as he reached up to smooth down the fur on his muzzle, “jedi do not fall easily, and even when they do, it doesn’t mean they can’t get up,”

“There was an entire battalion,” Junstan said, but there was a note of hope in his voice too,

“And Quinlan, even when injured, can take on double that,” Obi-Wan said, looking back to Anakin, who sighed,

“So what do we do?” he asked, looking at them, because Quinlan may well be alive, but they didn’t have the resources to go after him if he was being held somewhere. He didn’t want to be the one to destroy Obi-Wan’s hope, but he was not about to let his master go running off to save someone when he had only just saved Anakin.

Anakin had definitely come a very long way in the last couple of days and weeks, but he was still human, and a flawed one at that. He couldn’t let Obi-Wan go, not now.

“Right, Skywalker is,” Yoda agreed, “help Quinlan now, we cannot. Younglings, to wash, eat and bed go you will,” he said tilting his head at Kom to make sure that they got through it okay, and Anakin watched as Kom rounded them up and they shuffled off, the air of defeat lingering behind them,

“A gathering should be a time of joy,” Obi-Wan said, sadly and Anakin tightened the grip he had on Obi-Wan’ shoulder, sending his strength to him,

“That’s true,” Cin agreed, “but also, you’re back?”

Obi-Wan nodded tiredly and Anakin cut in to spare him, “We’ll tell you everything, but we’re both worn out – can we talk tomorrow?”

The masters all nodded, and together they made their way back upstairs.

Obi-Wan immediately went to the children and Anakin followed behind, reaching down to pick up Leia as Luke settled in Obi-Wan’s arms. They held them, Obi-Wan taking Leia from him and talking to her and Luke as Anakin watched, content to simply be there, watching the little ones in Obi-Wan’s arms, warm bundles that filled his heart with joy.

Finally, they both felt their tiredness increase, so they placed the twins back into their crib, and made their way back to their quarters. Even Anakin felt the glaring absence of Vos in the large room, however, and after they had both showered and changed, he pulled Obi-Wan against him under the blankets, kissing the back of his neck.

“He’s not dead,” Obi-Wan said again to his pillow, and the younger man swallowed around his own feelings and tried to remember how important Quinlan was to Obi-Wan,

“He always was a tenacious son of nerf-herder,” Anakin replied, going for levity in his tone and felt some reward when Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh.

Sleep came slowly to him, Obi-Wan tense for a long time before tiredness pulled him under. Anakin remained awake, a part of him wanting to storm of to Coruscant and demand the return of the Kiffar - because if he was alive then that is definitely where he was going to be held - another part of him never wanting to let Obi-Wan out of his sight again.

Obi-Wan, as usual, had been so right, when he had warned Anakin of the danger of pursuing this relationship. Anakin was stronger in the light than he had ever been, but there was a fire within him now – he would not stop until this galaxy was made safe.

For his children, for their order and most importantly, for Obi-Wan.

That was his mission now. And damned if he was going to fail again.

* * *

Quinlan woke suddenly, his eyes blinking open, and was immediately confused.

The scene in front of him was oddly empty, a grey cement wall on either side of him and black glass in front of him that reflected the blank grey wall behind him, and his own rather unfortunate position.

Quinlan examined his own reflection, his hair hanging over his shoulder and his arms raised above his head. He was suspended in some kind of tank, all four limbs secured with a force suppressant bands, and oddly numb, no pain but also no sensation in them. If he couldn’t see that his hands and legs were restrained he probably wouldn’t have known.

How in the world had he ended up here?

Quinlan looked down at his body, searching for more clues, and found himself stripped naked except for a pair of underwear that definitely weren’t his. He was covered in scars thanks to a life lived rough, but now there were large black circles over his torso and his legs, and Quinlan had a feeling that those were from the blaster shots he had taken. 

He should be dead.

He felt a spike of dread settled into his stomach – the fact that he was alive was not a good thing, and didn’t bode well for him.

He reached out with the force and met the wall that the force suppressant bands on his wrists and ankles created, more solid and enduring than many a durasteel hull he had penetrated in his various adventures. Frowning, he tried to move and found that none of his muscles were responding either. 

So they were also paralysing him. Fantastic.

“Ah you’re awake,”

Quinlan’s eyes flicked up to the speaker on the ceiling,

“And I probably should thank you for that?” he asked, glaring at it, trying to muster some anger but finding only bone deep exhaustion instead,

“You are lucky to be alive jedi,” the voice said, and Quinlan’s eyes narrowed at the venom in the last word,

“I don’t know if being trapped against my will is lucky,” Quinlan shot back and gritted his teeth as a laugh more unnerving than his entire situation echoed around the empty cement walled chamber, the total lack of ornamentation or even and indication for a door doing what it was designed to do and making Quinlan feel too big for the room, like the walls were somehow getting closer.

Then pain was racing across his body and his screams came back to him in haunting echoes as his vision blurred, and he knew he should be writhing in pain but his body didn’t move, his muscles stayed lax, and it scared him more than the pain itself.

“And that is an example of what happens if your mouth moves but nothing valuable comes out, Master Vos,” the voice said and Quinlan took in a deep breath, his respiratory muscles seeming to stutter with the effort. 

“Now, I’m going to ask you some questions, and you will either tell me the truth, or you will suffer for what remains of your pathetic life,”

“Then I will suffer,” Quinlan gasped out, his head hanging forward.

His screams rung out again, and again and again, until no voice was left, and no sounds but the desperate breaths he took whispered back to him, bouncing off the unforgiving cement.

The questions kept coming.

Quinlan kept ignoring them, focusing instead on the memories of the last couple of weeks, of the peace and joy that the new enclave on Razonai had brought to him. He remembered the warmth of the babies, as he held them for the first time. He remembered sitting in the canteen and irritating Cin, Obi-Wan sending him reprimanding and amused looks in equal measure. He remembered sitting just outside the cruiser and watching the padawans play.

The padawans were safe.

Soon pain became a constant companion.

He didn’t know how long he hung there, he didn’t know when even the pain faded away, and when his vision blacked out.

He only knew he would not speak.

There was so much to protect.

The padawans were safe.

* * *

“So, what you’re saying, is that the force being kidnapped you…to make you stronger?” Cin asked, leaning forward on the wooden table that smelled new, sitting outside the ship with Obi-Wan and the other masters, Anakin on Obi-Wan’s left,

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, looking from one master’s face to the other, doubt written on all of them,

“Strange this is. Unheard of however, it is not,” Yoda said, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, his ears flicking back and forth,

“Are you sure you interpreted it correctly though?” Zobon asked, his slow words and furrowed brow making Obi-Wan want to roll his eyes, an impulse that was supressed thanks to years of training in diplomacy. The bond pulsed with irritation and Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, who shifted forward in his seat, less skilled with hiding his own frustration,

“Obi-Wan was tortured for three days, I’m sure I would not have misinterpreted the message,” he said, “the point is, we should listen to the being. If the collapse in the basement has indeed opened a passage, then we should go down it,” Anakin said, nodding to Kom whose whiskers twitched at the mention of the collapse and his injury. Obi-Wan was pleased to see that thanks to Quinlan’s and Anakin’s fast response, the Bothan was completely recovered and walked with only a slight limp.

“It definitely is a passage, and from what I could tell, it reaches deep into the core of this planet,” Kom replied,

“We decided not to explore it until we could get better scanning equipment than what was on the cruiser, it just isn’t good enough to go through the dense stone,” Cin added, “and given that we had one collapse, we didn’t want to cause another,”

“Well we need to go down it,” Anakin said, “the being’s ways are…unorthodox, but they were effective. I think it…” Anakin faded off and glanced to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan nodded, unsure what direction Anakin was going in, but happy to support him, “I think it might want me to be the one to fight Palpatine,”

There was silence at the words, the other masters looking to Yoda and then back to Anakin, as though they had opinions, but none were brave enough to say them aloud,

“I know how that sounds,” Anakin said, humility that Obi-Wan had never heard from him before now in his tone, “I do not claim to be more powerful than you, Master Yoda,” he said, sincerely, “but the being showed me the power that I have. It said something about Obi-Wan and myself being destined to fight,”

“We put a lot of stock in prophecy before,” Obi-Wan added, placing a hand on Anakin’s leg below the table, and feeling some of the trepidation in Anakin’s signature retreat as he took comfort from Obi-Wan, “and we might have been wrong to do that. But we also can’t ignore this being and what it is telling us,”

“Hmmm,” Yoda said, nodded thoughtfully, “True words, you speak, Master Kenobi,” he said, his orb like eyes focused on Obi-Wan, “and true, Skywalker, your destiny in the force, written was,” Yoda added, “meditate on this I will. Go you both will, seek the crystal, you must,” he said and Obi-Wan felt Anakin relax next to him.

The other masters said nothing, simply nodding.

Obi-Wan swallowed then, the gnawing anxiety that had been sitting in his chest hard to ignore, and he leant forward on the table, drawing the other’s attention, “And what about Quinlan?” he asked, looking past the masters and into the blue morning sky stretching out above the cruiser, almost unable to bear hearing that perhaps he should give up hope after all.

He knew it was irritating Anakin, that he couldn’t seem to let go of Quinlan. But Quin would always be a dear friend. And it pained him greatly to know that he was now in the clutches of the new empire. 

“We will have to wait. The Organa’s last message to us said they would contact us, and not to send out any messages as security and fear in the capital is high. If Vos is being held on Coruscant, and he most likely will be, then we need their help before we can even think of a rescue,” Cin said,

“Which reminds me, actually,” Kom said, reaching into his vest and taking out a datapad, “Bail and Breha have fallen in with the rebel group that is based in the undercity of Coruscant,” he said, sliding the datapad to Anakin,

“Of course they have,” Obi-Wan said, his lips tilting up in a smile, unsurprised that they were already clearly making an effort for their rebellion, and pleased that they were not only back safely, but that they were clearly under no suspicion if they were already out and about,

“And the leaders actually sent a message as well, I believe you and Skywalker are well known to them,”

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Anakin,

“We’ll take a look,” he said,

“And in the meantime, we will help the initiates build their sabres, and await more information from the Organa’s regarding their upcoming operation, and hopefully tell them about Vos next time they check in,” Cin said, while Yoda nodded next to him,

“Good the plan is. Continue with it we will,” Yoda said, and then meeting broke up.

Obi-Wan got to his feet with the other masters, and was about to turn to Anakin when Yoda stopped and looked back to them, “with me you will come, Kenobi and Skywalker,” he said, before he turned and shuffled towards the cruiser.

Doing as he was bid, Obi-Wan followed the grandmaster as Anakin fell into step next to him. They stayed quiet as they walked through the entrance and then turned into the bedroom corridor and entered Yoda’s quarters. They both sat on the couch as he continued over to his desk,

“Much you have been through,” he said, opening the desk drawer, “and much you have learned, young Skywalker,”

Obi-Wan couldn’t see what the grandmaster pulled out from the draw from this angle, but then he turned around Obi-Wan was surprised to see a sleek silver lightsabre in his hand as he walked back over to them. The bond lit with joy and he felt Anakin move, as if to reach out, before he settled himself back down. Yoda shuffled back to them until he was standing in front of Anakin, appraising the younger man with those old eyes, a thoughtful look in them,

“If to go into this last trial, you are, then take your sabre, you will,” Yoda said, holding it out in front of him. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin’s face reflected the many emotions that were trickling across the bond, and then saw him hesitate.

“Master, I…I do not know if I am still worthy,” Anakin admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. Obi-Wan reached across the bond but could do no more than send his support – what Anakin was feeling was for him to overcome. 

Yoda hummed, but did not lower the sabre, ‘doubt in the force, to the dark side will lead,” he said, “but doubt in self, to the path of light, you go,”

As he finished, Anakin looked back up, as though he could not believe that Yoda was suggesting as much.

Obi-Wan watched with pride as Anakin steeled himself and then reached out, hit with a mental celebration over the bond as Anakin’s hand closed over the metal. The younger man’s face lit up in a true smile as he held the weapon once more, the blade that Obi-Wan had seen him construct with determination and happiness, and then wield with so much control, looking complete now that it was back in his hand.

“Go now,” Yoda said, sitting on the floor in front of them, “and may the force go with you,”

Obi-Wan and Anakin murmured their responses and left the room, Obi-Wan watching out of the corner of his eye as Anakin hooked the sabre back onto his belt, the entire outfit finally looking complete now with the gleam of silver at his waist.

They made their way back out of the ship before Anakin spoke, “It feels good,” he said,

“I can’t imagine how much you have missed it,” Obi-Wan replied, turning to meet the younger man’s gaze as they made their way back up the hill to the temple,

“Well my master told me my lightsabre was my life, once, so it has been difficult,” Anakin replied with a smile and Obi-Wan returned it.

They entered the temple then, moving from the bright daylight to the cool shade lit by patches of reflected sunlight. They didn’t need to keep talking, the bond communicating for them, and in the silence the worry that Obi-Wan had felt earlier came back. Anakin, ever sensitive to his moods, sent support over the bond and Obi-Wan latched onto it, trying to stay in the present, knowing that the more they succeeded, the more they could do to help Quin.

Now in the interior of the temple, they turned and headed down the stairs that led to the basement, and Obi-Wan felt the change in the force around them at the same time that Anakin did,

“There’s something different here,” he said, but he was unable to localise it, or even define what exactly it was,

“It’s power,” Anakin replied, carefully though, as if he were still reaching out to try and decipher the force around them, “there’s a new power in the lines of the force that I couldn’t feel before, like something was blocking it but now it’s been released,”

“Well that would make sense if the force being only opened the passage fully after we were taken by it,”

“Hmm,” Anakin hummed as they continued down.

Finally, they reached the bottom, and even Obi-Wan could feel the power now,

“You know,” Anakin said conversationally as they made they way down the corridor, towards where the collapse had happened,

“Mm?” Obi-Wan asked, taking his sabre off his belt as a warning sounded in the force around them. Anakin felt it too, judging by the sudden tightening across the bond, and then the basement was bathed in blue light as Anakin’s sabre flared to life. Obi-Wan lit his own and for a moment it was as if all was right in the world – the two of them, united in their cause and ready to defend each other to the end,

“That is an interesting feeling,” Anakin said, the lightness of his tone changed from just moments before,

“What do you think it means?” Obi-Wan asked as they approached the debris, the small passageway that Anakin had described when he had come to rescue Kom now a yawning hole that dropped away sharply into the rock underneath the temple,

“Trouble,” Anakin replied darkly.

With that ominous prediction, Obi-Wan stepped into the passageway with Anakin, the coolness of the temple changing almost immediately to coldness that bit at them, Obi-Wan watching in surprise as his breath fogged in front of him,

“Okay this is getting weirder,” Anakin said, having come to a standstill, his sabre by his side as he stared around in confusion,

“I guess nothing about this place is truly natural,” Obi-Wan replied, also looking around, noting how dark the rock was, quite different to the deep grey rock that was found in most of the area that surrounded this temple.

“Well I suppose the only thing to do is to keep moving,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan nodded.

Lifting his sabre back into a defensive position, Obi-Wan led the way down the tunnels, taking comfort from the bond in the back of his mind, the glow of their sabres the only light as they continued on through. The floor was angled steeply downwards, and frustratingly covered in small little pieces of rock and mud that slid around underfoot and resulted in both Obi-Wan and Anakin having to slow down, holding the wall for stability on the steep terrain,

“Maybe the danger was simply a fall,” Obi-Wan griped aloud as he nearly lost his footing for the umpteenth time, not even his natural grace able to stop him from stumbling over that crumbly last patch,

“What a boring way for a jedi to die,” Anakin replied from behind him, their every step sending little cascades of rock down with them,

“How long do you think this tunnel is?” Obi-Wan asked, wondering if they perhaps should have packed some supplies. Anakin paused behind him, reaching out and washing Obi-Wan with a heady mix of power and control as his power pushed past him. Obi-Wan recovered control over his beating heart as Anakin sighed,

“A long, long way,” he replied.

Resigning themselves to a tiring walk down, Obi-Wan continued in front and the two of them picked their way carefully down the slope, the incline growing still greater as they made their way onwards.

Just when Obi-Wan was actually going to consider calling a rest, the two of them panting from the effort it took to maintain their balance, the floor started to even out,

“I think we might actually be coming to an end!” Anakin suggested from behind, loose stones unearthed by him somehow making their way down and under Obi-Wan’s foot, causing the older man to slip further forward,

“If it got any steeper this would be a slide,” Obi-Wan bit out, his grip on the wall loosening as his feet finally found better traction after the long walk down,

“Well that would certainly be the first time we went flying through a dark tunnel at the behest of some greater being,” Anakin replied sarcastically, coming to walk beside Obi-Wan, the floor quickly leveling so that they were once again walking on even ground. Obi-Wan wondered once more at the depth of the passage as his breath fogged up in the light from the sabres, and the cold bit at his exposed cheeks and nose.

Obi-Wan was about to make a quip about how nearly every adventure with Anakin involved some level of being completely out of control when the ground rumbled beneath them.

Stopping, Obi-Wan looked over to Anakin, who had the same look of concern on his face,

“That doesn’t sound good,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes,

“You have a talent for understatement, my love,” he said, the endearment out of his mouth before he thought about it, and totally worth it, he decided, if the wide eyes, small surprised smile and love that hit him across the bond was anything to go by.

The ground rumbled again and Obi-Wan grimaced, coming back to the situation at hand, “nothing to do but to keep going,” he said. And so they did.

The passage wound ever further, the two of them disoriented as to the exact direction they were walking in, but Obi-Wan had a feeling it was moving deeper into the heart of the very planet. He wondered who could have possibly constructed such a thing in the first place, when the ground rumbled again and he started to get the same bad feeling he usually got when Anakin took the pilot’s seat on any of the spacecraft they had been in over the years.

They remained quiet as they moved through the black walled corridors, the ground beneath their feet changing from the loose stones and mud to solid rock, and then, much to Obi-Wan’s surprise, tile. The further in they walked the more intricate the patterns on the tiles became, and their boots, especially the new black ones that Obi-Wan had on, were very loud as they walked on through,

“What is this place?” Anakin murmured, the bond tight with shared anxiety, and Obi-Wan shrugged, his attention caught by a flicker of light in the distance instead,

"Turn the sabre off,” Obi-Wan instructed, powering his own sabre down and Anakin did as he was bid.

At the end of the corridor shone a light, one that Obi-Wan had thought he spotted a little while back, but had put it down to his eyes creating information out of nothing

“Is that fire?” Anakin asked, as they continued forward, the floor beneath them smooth, nothing in their path to trip them despite the dark. Look at the flickering glow, getting larger as they moved forward with careful steps, Obi-Wan nodded, re-igniting his sabre to light the ground beneath them again.

Soon, the sabre became redundant as they neared the source of the light, and the archway through which it shone. The fire itself was a bright white thing and stood on a pedestal made of a white stone, intricate designs etched into it, long and rectangular, with a square base and a square head, upon which sat and beautiful, black stone basin in which the fire danced.

As they walked through the archway, Obi-Wan found his breath taken away from him completely, his gaze drawn upwards to the high arched ceilings, upon which was drawn many pictograms in shades of red, white and yellow.

“Wow,” Anakin said from beside him, and Obi-Wan glanced over to him, taking in the handsome profile he cut, his hair falling back off his shoulders as he raised his eyes upwards, the long line of his neck in pale contrast to the dark of his clothes.

Anakin’s gaze met his and Obi-Wan released he had been caught staring. The bond filled with affection as Anakin smiled, not a teasing smile, but a real one, happiness filtering across the bond with it,

“Worth the effort to get here,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan nodded, refocusing on the task at hand. Taking a step forward he moved towards the altar, the fire on top blinding in it’s intensity. Behind it, Obi-Wan spotted a table, upon which sat a beautiful white box, though from this distance, it did not look like it could be much larger than his hand.

“That must be the solari crystal,” Obi-Wan said, moving forward. As he took another step, Anakin close behind him, the floor clicked beneath the two of them. Looking down, Obi-Wan saw with growing dread that he had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind, the tile sunken into the floor beneath his weight,

“Kriff,” Anakin said from behind him, and Obi-Wan glanced back to his feet to see that the tile had sunk beneath him too.

For a moment all was still, and Obi-Wan though that perhaps they had been spared, given that this place was no doubt built by the ancient people of Razonai, and therefore the defence mechanisms had fallen to ruin.

Then a metallic scream rent the air and a trapdoor opened from above them.

Out of it a metal monstrosity dropped to the floor, between them and the table holding the white box, effectively cutting them off. It stood taller than Obi-Wan by twice his own height and with more than six arms, red glowing lights on its face - no doubt whatever it used as eyes – and a bulging chest from which red light emanated, it was terrifying.

Turning as one, Obi-Wan and Anakin stared the thing down as it assembled itself, its sleek and gleaming metallic body accenting the fearsome blades at the tip of every arm.

“On my count?” Anakin asked, but then the thing lunged for them and Obi-Wan jumped to his left and felt Anakin move to the right, the long blade on the droid’s arm breaking the tiles with a resounding crash, just at the point between where they were standing,

"Three!” Anakin called, and then the fight was on.

Obi-Wan ducked under a swinging arm and brought his sabre up to cut the arm off, but another arm with another blade swung around to block him, the jarring force of the riposte sending him reeling backwards and then ducking again as another arm that missed Anakin very nearly took his head off,

"The blades repel our sabres!” Obi-Wan called, parrying the multiple attacks coming in, the whirr of the mechanical heart in front of him rumbling behind the grated ribcage, the whistling sound of the blades sending adrenaline pumping through his veins as he threw himself into a somersault to dodge another vicious attack,

“Yes, I noticed!” Anakin called back, his voice jerking with the movements of his body,

Coming to crouch on the balls of his heels, Obi-Wan took a moment to assess the situation in front of him.

The beast was truly fearsome. Looking like it was hewn from black stone and black metal, it moved with purpose, and in the few seconds that Obi-Wan had stopped to take in it’s broad black shoulders, it’s large cutting blades and the red glow that was streaming out from its core, Anakin had performed more than three dodges to get himself out of the way,

“What are we gonna do?” Anakin called, the crunching of metal on stone making Obi-Wan’s ears hurt and head throb,

“I think the inside of the beast is vulnerable!” Obi-Wan called back, jumping back into the fray and drawing half the limbs – of which the beast had seven - to come at him instead, giving Anakin a breather,

“What, you mean between the grating?” Anakin called back,

“Yes!” Obi-Wan said, moving closer with every swipe of his sabre, the blue blade simply bouncing off the stone and metal,

“What the hell is this thing made of?” Anakin grunted, Obi-Wan feeling an echo of pain across the bond as Anakin was thrown to the other side of the room,

“Hopefully, it’s just the outside,” Obi-Wan called back, his energy flagging as the beast’s swings grew more frenzied and it took every ounce of training and awareness in the force to avoid being beaten. Rolling once more, Obi-Wan found himself at the great beast’s feet, the metal plating here fused with the stone, and completely repellent to his blade as he attempted to knock its feet out.

A warning in the force had him rolling to the right, and just in time too, for the massive blade came crashing down he had been only moment ago, sparks lighting up the darkness, shadows from the pillar of flame behind them flickering and changing with every move of the great beast,

“I think you’re closest!” Anakin called from behind.

Looking up as he danced around the beast’s blades, Obi-Wan focused on the centre of the beast, and the glowing red light that created the demonic aura around it. He was definitely closer than Anakin, who was a full arms length away, moving like the floor beneath him was on fire,

“Distract him!” Obi-Wan commanded and felt Anakin’s amusement in the bond,

“How much more can I do?”

“Use your imagination!” Obi-Wan called back, his breath knocked out of him as one of the arms caught him from behind and he was thrown into the front of the beast, his head aching with the force of the impact.

The ground rumbled underneath him and Obi-Wan turned in time to see that Anakin’s idea of using his imagination involved the pillar of fire, and the beast reacted to it like a dog to an intruder in it’s yard. Not wanting to waste the opportunity that Anakin had created, Obi-Wan leapt up, and with a little nudge to the force, he drew the power that flowed between Anakin and himself and thrust his sabre into the gap between the grating of the beast’s chest.

Obi-Wan drove the blade in as deep as he could, the vibration from it hitting the impenetrable stone and metal shaking Obi-Wan’s entire body, but meeting no resistance from the front, where Obi-Wan hoped the controlling mechanism was. There was an almighty groan, and he heard Anakin yelling something, but couldn’t make out the words themselves as he managed to get his feet under him and yanked his sabre backwards.

The weapon came free and Obi-Wan fell onto his back with a huff as the beast continued screaming. It flailed around as though it was in pain, and Obi-Wan quickly scrambled to his feet, heading to where Anakin was lying on the ground, holding his side,

“Get up,” he called, dragging Anakin along with him, the younger man struggling to get his legs underneath him,

“Got hit in the side,” Anakin grunted as Obi-Wan continued pulling him along, the screaming getting louder, thuds and thunks of metal pieces hitting the ground,

“You’re going to get hit with more than just a blade if you don’t move now,” Obi-Wan replied, vaulting over the pillar that was lying on it’s side now, the fire still burning at it’s top, unaffected by the change in position. Yanking harder than he probably should have, Obi-Wan didn’t regret it when Anakin fell down next to him, and Obi-Wan pulled him closer, using his body as a shield as light got even brighter.

 _This is not how I saw us dying_ , Anakin said over the bond, Obi-Wan pulling his head into the crook of his neck as the wind started around them,

 _We’re not going to die,_ Obi-Wan corrected him.

The ground shook and his hearing turned to white noise.

Next to him, Anakin gripped him as the two of them hid in the meagre cover provided by the pillar.

It was several minutes before Obi-Wan realised that his hearing had returned, but that the chamber was now quiet, only their heavy breaths sounding around them. 

He raised his head and looked over the pillar, back to where they had left the beast. The machine lay still, pieces lying all around where it had once stood. The pillar of fire threw enough light for him to see that the beast had literally fallen to pieces, but what caught his attention in the relatively dimly lit cavern, was the glowing white light at the centre of it.

Then Anakin groaned next to him and Obi-Wan’s attention was back on him, “where?” he asked and Anakin pulled away from him, indicating his side, his face screwed up with pain,

Reaching out, Obi-Wan was alarmed to feel wetness across the right side, the tabard sliced neatly. Using the bond, Obi-Wan drew on the light side of the force to ease some of Anakin’s pain and felt him relax, his breathing evening out, his eyes grateful as they opened and met Obi-Wan’s concerned gaze,

“When did you learn to do that?” Anakin asked, a note of admiration in his voice,

“Just now,” Obi-Wan replied truthfully, 

With that settled, Obi-Wan undid his belt and then reached up and tugged off his tabard, pulling Anakin into a sitting position, a groan of pain leaving him as he was handled, and then wrapped the tabard around his waist, securing it with his own belt,

“Do you think you can stand?” Obi-Wan asked, looking back over to the pile, “I think the crystal we’re looking for is over there,”

Anakin nodded and with a little manoeuvring, Obi-Wan was able to get his arm around Anakin’s waist and hoist him up. Anakin leant most of his weight on Obi-Wan but the older man didn’t mind, as they hobbled towards the crystal together.

Getting closer, Obi-Wan stared at the ground in amazement, looking at the many shards and chunks of materials but also, oddly enough, whole pieces of rock and metal, that look less blown up and more like they had simply fallen from the machine, as though they were being carried rather than a part of it.

The crystal’s glow dimmed as they approached, and Obi-Wan was finally able to take in the details of it, marvelling at the size, about twice as big as his own lightsabre crystal, and the beauty of its many facets,

"That’s stunning,” Anakin said, as he brought up his other hand to steady himself on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “but what do you think about that box,” Anakin said, nodding his head towards the white box which Obi-Wan had somehow completely forgotten about, given the attack and the events that followed,

“I’ll get it,” he said, lowering Anakin to sit on a square piece of black stone once again oddly well cut to have been created from a blast or destructive force.

Obi-Wan reached the box, which had been flung to rest against the cavern’s wall, several metres from where it had been sitting, the table that had been underneath it splintered and lying on its side nearby. He picked it up, the white wood smooth under his hands, and very warm to the touch. Surprised, Obi-Wan took it back to where Anakin was sitting, favouring his left side, and trying to breathe evenly through the pain. Hating that he could do more than this, Obi-Wan reached out to the bond once more and watched in satisfaction as Anakin’s form relaxed and he sat a little straighter,

“What’s in it?” he asked, and Obi-Wan shrugged, handing it over. The younger man felt around the edges of the box and found a catch. Pressing it, with a soft click that echoed in the now quiet chamber, the lid sprung open.

For a moment, Obi-Wan was unsure what he was looking at, pieces of elegantly carved stone lying in the box. Then he glanced to the right and left, at the precise and similar looking debris made of metal and stone lying where the beast had died, and then back over to the crystal,

“They’re components,” he said, understanding suddenly dawning on him as to why all these random bits of metal and stone looked so familiar. Anakin looked up at him in confusion and then his eyes brightened as he realised what Obi-Wan had concluded,

“For a sabre!” he exclaimed, excitement coming quickly through the bond. Anakin pushed himself up, Obi-Wan grabbing his arm before he could fall over, and then helped him to shuffle over to the crystal, the box held carefully in his other hand, “they must all go together,”

“A stone lightsabre?” Obi-Wan asked, having never heard of such a thing. The only other material he had ever seen used for lightsabres was wood, and that too only for Wookie jedi who choose to use Kashyyk wood.

“It must be possible,” Anakin said, his gaze fixed on the crystal,

“Let me get it for you,” Obi-Wan cautioned before the younger man could reach down and hurt himself. Begrudgingly, Anakin stepped back and Obi-Wan leaned over.

Only for his hand to meet resistance.

He pushed with more force, but it was like a shield was around the crystal, and he glanced back at Anakin, “I can’t,” he said, sounding more put out than he had meant to. Anakin looked equally confused,

“Why not?” he asked, bringing himself down to the ground by reaching out to grasp Obi-Wan’s upper arm, shaking with the effort, and pain spiking through the bond,

"Don’t know,” Obi-Wan replied.

He stayed quiet as Anakin looked back to the crystal. Carefully, expecting to meet the same resistance, Anakin reached out. His hand moved straight past where Obi-Wan’s had stopped, and his fist wrapped around the crystal.

Obi-Wan felt the jolt of electricity spike through Anakin a second after he did, and gasped when Anakin did as the crystal’s light grew blindingly bright, white light searing Obi-Wan’s retinas, forcing him to turn away from it.

“I think…I think I should craft the sabre,” Anakin said, his voice oddly soft, and his eyes transfixed on the crystal, as though it wasn’t almost impossible to look at it. Not wanting to delay this anymore, Obi-Wan took the components out of the box, and held them up to Anakin.

He watched in awe, the force pounding in a joyful swooping arc between the two of them, the power of it making him feel dizzy as Anakin spread his fingers and all the components floated in the air in front of him, just above his head, kneeling on the ground as he was. 

From the ground, several other parts floated up to join them, Anakin’s eyes falling closed as he followed the force, his face bathed in the bright white light, Obi-Wan unable to take his own eyes off the sight.

The power around them built and the components moved, some of them going so far as the change shape, coming closer together, forming joints and molds around the crystal. Anakin grunted and a power spike sent Obi-Wan reeling, but Anakin pushed through, and the stone pieces bent to his will, a hilt taking shape, and then Obi-Wan blinked in the sudden darkness as the crystal was covered, and with it, the fire in the pillar behind them went out.

There was nothing then, but the sounds of their breaths.

Then a familiar rush of noise hit him and Obi-Wan looked past the bright white blade and at the wonder on Anakin’s face, the blade held securely in his hand. From the white light, Obi-Wan saw that the hilt was indeed stone, so black it would not be visible if weren’t for Anakin’s grip on it, and the blade itself looked sharper and more defined than Anakin’s old sabre ever did.

Anakin swallowed and seemed to study Obi-Wan’s face, as though he wasn’t sure what to say. Obi-Wan got to his feet, his knees aching from their prolonged contact with the stone floor, unsure when exactly he had fallen to them. He walked over to Anakin, who deactivated the sabre, and pulled him up, activating his own sabre, the blue oddly dull compared to the brilliance of Anakin’s new blade.

“Looks like the prophecy is taking shape,” Obi-Wan said, standing closer than he had intended, but glad for it, able to examine the minute changes in the younger man’s expression, the slight crease at the corner of his eyes matching the doubt he could read across the bond,

“There is so much power in this blade, Obi-Wan,” he replied, astonishment mixed in with fear,

“And it could not have chosen a better master to wield it,” Obi-Wan said, meaning it, not particularly concerned that the crystal hadn’t chosen him, more than happy to stay with his own trustworthy blade, one which had served him his whole life,

“What if I fall?” Anakin asked,

“Then I will catch you,” Obi-Wan replied, and didn’t stop him when he leant in to kiss him, enjoying the closeness of the moment, the stolen seconds that dark cave provided them both.

But a sense of duty pulled at him, and he broke away, seeing the understanding in Anakin’s eyes,

“We have a war to fight,” Obi-Wan said, his voice feeling loud after the quiet of the moment they had shared,

“Mmm,” Anakin replied, and then he took his hand and ignited the white blade, the light it cast more than three times brighter than Obi-Wan’s blue, the shadows and colours of their blades uniting and following them up and out of the caverns as they took the narrow and rocky passage back out.

Obi-Wan tried to swallow the fear. If the force being felt they needed a more powerful weapon, then it meant that they were going to face a more difficult battle than they ever had before.

Obi-Wan feared for Anakin’s life. He feared for his own safety. There was so much they didn’t know, and so much they couldn’t ignore – not Quinlan’s capture, not the impending threat of a new weapon and not the destruction of the republic’s government as they knew it.

He took comfort from the solidity of Anakin’s presence.

They didn’t know for sure what was going to happen in the future.

But they were damn well going to face it anyway.

It was time to bring this battle back to where it had all begun.

It was time to go back to Coruscant.

* * *

**Firstly I have to say a HUGE thank you to everyone for your kind words, your feedback and your kudos. It means SO MUCH to me to get those notifications, and I love this story and these characters, so I am grateful that I get to share that with you.**

**Secondly, I am so sorry for the delay in updates! But I just brought home a little 8 week old german shepherd puppy and he is a HANDFUL. Also exams are just round the corner, so updates are probably going to be much slower, but the good news is, we’re nearly done! So please bear with me, I am definitely still writing, but it just takes a lot longer now haha.**

**Love you all <3 <3 **


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